


Immersed

by mishezza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angel/Demon Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Demon!Dean, Denial, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Harry Potter References, Hate Sex, Hurt, Lucifer Possessing Sam Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Masturbation in Shower, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Later Seasons, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Star Wars References, Swearing, Switching, Temporary Character Death, The Winchesters don't know Crowley yet, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Torture, Unbeta'd, Violence, deanmon, mentions of light bdsm, please read the warnings at the beginning of each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishezza/pseuds/mishezza
Summary: When mortals dare their destiny,When the devil tears two brothers apart,When purity is gone,When the lines between good and evil begin to blur,When heaven and hell fall apart,What will you do?Can a fallen angel save a mislead man,Torn between heaven and hell,Between cruelty and desireIn a world where nightmares are real,In a world where nothing is certain,Who will you become?What will you choose?Violence or passion?Faith or doubt?Hate or love?Damnation or salvation?Peace or war?When nothing else is left,Can love be salvation?***Teaser trailer for this story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctrv-HpkeL4Playlist: https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4 (will be updated regularly)
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new WIP. <3  
> This story deals with some heavy topics that may trigger some people, so please make sure to carefully read the warnings at the beginning of each chapter! I will try to update the story as frequently as I can; right now I'm planning with 20-ish chapters and roundabout 100K words.
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments if you like what you're reading.  
> I hope you enjoy this little project as much as I do. <3

**IMMERSED**

_When mortals dare their destiny,  
When the devil tears two brothers apart,  
When purity is gone,_

_When the lines between good and evil begin to blur  
When heaven and hell fall apart,  
What will you do?  
_

_Can a fallen angel save a mislead man,  
Torn between heaven and hell,  
Between cruelty and desire?  
_

_In a world where nightmares are real,  
In a world where nothing is certain,  
Who will you become?  
What will you choose?  
_

_Violence or passion?  
Faith or doubt?  
Hate or love?  
Damnation or salvation?  
Peace or war?  
_

_When nothing else is left,_  
Can love be salvation?

***

It's been two years since Dean has been brought back from hell by Castiel. The angels had tried to indoctrinate the Winchester brothers in order to recruit them to be the vessels for their heavenly prizefight of the century: The battle of brothers between Michael and Lucifer. The Winchesters, being stubborn as ever, had undermined their efforts by trying to prevent Judgement Day altogether. They had convinced the angel Castiel to rebel in order to serve their purpose and together - as Team Free Will - they fought hard to spit destiny right in the face.

They did manage to derail the heavenly plans; however, it didn’t quite pan out exactly as they had hoped. Dean lost his brother Sam to his dangerous addiction to demon blood and in the end, all of his efforts couldn't keep him from saying 'Yes' to the archangel Lucifer. The big apocalyptic fight took place as scheduled, but against all odds and prophecies, Lucifer had managed to kill his brother Michael, who had been using the Winchester's half-brother Adam Milligan's body as his vessel.

The forces of both Heaven and Hell had been heavily shattered by the outcome of this fight: Hell had been divided into two fractions - the supporters of Lucifer and those of his rising opponent Crowley - and Heaven had been disrupted by the dawning of a civil war. Planet Earth has been stuck in the middle of the infernal battle between Heaven and Hell ever since. The impact of this war has since shattered the planet right to its core and has caused the lines between good and evil to blur beyond all recognition.

Dean Winchester, still believed to be the righteous man, turns against God and Heaven as he takes on a dark path from which he might never recover. Castiel is still faithful that he will be able to lead the hunter to salvation, but he is well aware that, if all of his efforts to save him fail, he would have to kill the man he so desperately believed in. While they are trying to defeat the devil himself, the two of them are thrown into a gruesome battle, enlaced in the constant push and pull between good and evil, faith and doubt, violence and passion.


	2. no heaven or hell, just the land between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, nightmares, trauma, hints at alcoholism, cursing, explicit sexual content/NSFW.
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – A Million  
> \- VNV Nation - Carbon
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_the night, presaged by a dying sun  
the life and times of ascent and fall  
the dance has commenced in the fading glow  
a wall of pitch for the dying of light_

***

_Bone-piercing screams. The smell of burnt, rotten flesh. The iron taste of blood on Dean’s tongue. Scalding chains that are carving their way through the delicate skin on his wrists. Low, evil laughter coming from his brother's mouth, that is contorted in a facial expression that is clearly not his own. The threat of Lucifer’s glowing red eyes that are staring back at him from Sam’s face. The way Sam tilts his head to the side in a fluent, angelic movement, Lucifer’s menacing and self-satisfied smile on his lips as he snaps the neck of his opponent without lifting a finger._

**_BANG!_ **

Dean is startled out of his sleep by the loud, crackling noise of a lightning that strikes somewhere not too far away. His eyes fly open and his breaths come out in an erratic stutter as his body clings to the drenched sheets in cold sweat. It takes him a moment to assess the situation he finds himself in - no hell, no Lucifer and most certainly _no sign of his brother Sam_.

He's lying on a squeaking bed in another one of these shabby motel rooms and the occasional flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm that is blustering outside are the only sources of light that fall through the thin, lacy curtains.

His breathing slowly evens when he realizes that he is safe. At least as safe as he can be, considering the hostile circumstances that he’s constantly surrounded by. But he does not allow himself to be too relieved about it, because he just cannot bring himself to. Not when he knows that his little brother that he ought to protect, is still out there somewhere, as far away as he could possibly be from anything that even closely resembles safety.

Lucifer, the friggin' devil himself, had been possessing Sam's body as his meatsuit for more than two years now and had probably pushed Sam into the smallest and darkest corner in the back of his mind, although Dean wasn’t even sure that his brother was even still alive somewhere inside his probably severely messed up head. Considering that a pathetically whining and rebelling human co-pilot would do nothing but slow him down, the devil had probably already gotten rid of Sam for good. At least that's what Dean tells himself to justify that he had given up any and all hope that he even had the smallest shot at saving his brother.

***

The hunter props himself up on one elbow to sit upright and grabs the neck of the half-empty whiskey bottle that is still situated next to his bed. He pushes the cold, ribbed glass against his lips and takes a long swig, not even flinching when he feels the strong and stale liquid trickling its way down his sore throat with a burning ache.

By now, Dean had gotten all too used to drowning his sorrows and fears, because he knows that nothing that he feels or does matters anyway. It doesn't matter that Dean is out there, fighting demons and all sorts of other creatures, putting his life on the line and just barely escaping death each and every single day. It doesn't matter that he feels like hell for not being able to save his little brother.

Because he was the one, who let Sam down and ultimately, it was also his fault that the world went to hell after that friggin' apocalypse. The weight of his failure weighs heavily on the hunter's shoulders, but Dean cannot afford the luxury of caring or taking the time to deal with his problems. He fucked up and now he has to face the consequences and clean up the fallout.

Dean had also cut off any remaining ties and connections to his friends and family because he didn’t want to drag them down with him. All they did was to remind him of his failure and it kept slowing him down. He knows that they are probably worried about him and that they just genuinely want to help him, but he just can’t stand it when they give him _that_ look. That patronizing look of pity and understanding, that he knows he doesn't deserve.

This is his battle, so he fights it alone.

***

However, one of his friends didn’t seem to have gotten that memo.

Dean had just lifted his heavy body from the bed and gone to the adjacent bathroom to splash some cold water on his sweat-dampened face, when he hears the familiar flapping of wings and he knows that the angel is standing right behind him before he even catches the dark-haired man's gaze in the mirror. Even after two years of telling him that he should just leave him alone, Castiel still had the nerve to pop up out of nowhere at any given time, unannounced and even worse than that, uninvited.

"Castiel", Dean says flatly and his facial expression looks just as tired and cold as his voice sounds. "Hello Dean", the angel replies in an apologetic tone and there is a weird sinking feeling in Dean’s stomach caused by the way Castiel pronounces his name in this low but soft voice. The hunter rolls his eyes and sighs inaudibly, the feeling of unease slowly spreading through his body as he sees Castiel’s deep blue eyes filled with the worry that he knows he doesn’t deserve.

Trying to ignore the feeling in his gut, the hunter breaks the uncomfortable silence to finally get this over with. "What do you want?”, he says harshly, “I already told you to-.“ But Castiel interrupts him before he even gets a chance to continue his rant, "Yes, Dean. You told me to, quote, _get out of your fucking life for good_ , unquote, but… _Dean_ , you know just as well as I do that this isn’t going to happen.“

Dean raises his eyebrows and looks at the ceiling in irritation, the sarcasm clearly audible in his voice that had been calm and collected until now, "Oh, lucky me! I mean who wouldn't want to have an annoying and fucking useless angel perching on their shoulder twenty-four-seven?“ He is fully aware how much these words will hurt Castiel and even though he instantly feels the regret, he hopes that the angel will finally understand that he should just leave Dean alone in his misery - if not for Dean's sake, then for his own, because deep down, Dean knows that Castiel doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit by a cranky, meaningless human being.

And it was exactly because of that, that Dean wished Castiel would just leave him alone, like he had already told him countless times before. Because out of all the people that were ever close to him, Castiel was the one who always and infallibly reminded him of his failure. Besides, he wasn’t exactly lying when he said that Castiel wasn’t of any use to him now - he hadn't been able to help him to save Sam back then, so what was the point of him being here, now that they had already failed?

***

 _Annoying. Useless._ Cas was used to Dean's mean words and emotional outbursts by now and he tried to be as understanding as possible, but today was a day where he just wasn’t capable of giving the hunter the same amount of patience and sympathy like he usually did.

Instead, he grabs two fistfuls of Dean's plaid shirt and pushes him against the tiled bathroom wall with a dull thud. "You've got some nerve, Winchester", he says in a deep voice, his full upper lip trembling with his anger, "Do you really think that I've got the time to deal with an _annoying_ and _fucking useless_ human being that always talks me down and whines about his problems like the little diva that he is?"

Dean is caught off guard by the angel's sudden display of emotions. Usually, Castiel always tried to inflict his help upon Dean or at least made some miserably failing attempts to cheer him up. This angry outburst, however, is all new to Dean.

"So what the hell are still you doing here then, huh?", the hunter tilts his head forwards slightly, using his slight height advantage to look down at the angel as he speaks, "If you're so pissed off by me, why don't you just fly your feathery ass back to Heaven and leave me the fuck alone?“

Cas looks down at his feet and sighs. "You really have to ask?", he answers, feeling both unnerved and kind of guilty, his fingers relaxing a bit where he had been clenching them into a fist around the bunched-up fabric of Dean’s plaid shirt, "Look at you, Dean. You're a mess.“

"Thanks, man", Dean scoffs as he rolls his eyes, "Whatever...I don't need a babysitter and honestly? I think you've also got better things to do than followin’ me around all goddamn day.“

"Maybe you're right", Cas says firmly, "But I do still care about you and I still hold on to the foolish belief that I could _help_ you...if you’d just let me.“ Dean just shrugs his shoulders indifferently and exhales through his nose while looking down at his feet, "I didn't ask for your help.“

Castiel looks at the hunter and sees the glimpse of hurt that seeps through his hard and cold facade for a split second. "You don't have to", the angel says and pats Dean on the shoulder before he vanishes with another whoosh of his wings.

***

Dean is painfully aware of the now cold spot on his shoulder where Castiel's warm and comforting hand had been resting just a split second ago. He looks down at his shirt that is all rumpled where the angel had grabbed him and pushed him against the cold tiles that he was still leaning against, the thought of this unexpected and dominating action alone sending a cold shiver down Dean's spine.

The hunter sighs and rubs his fingers over the frown lines on his forehead before he shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind of these things. His pants suddenly feel tighter than before and when he feels a familiar need building inside of him, he decides that a nice hot shower might be a good idea after all.

Dean gets out of his clothes quickly and steps into the shower, enjoying the first spray of hot water that is trickling down his sweaty and exhausted body. He runs his hands up along his face, brushing his hair out of the way with his fingers before he slowly runs one hand down his wet body, gliding it over the warm skin that spans over his muscular chest and abdomen, gasping when his hand brushes along his already painfully hard dick. Damn, it’s been way too long since he’s enjoyed a little quality time and gotten some relief.

He loosely wraps his hand around his dick and starts out with a few lazy strokes, letting his head thud back against the cold tiles as his mouth falls slack. "Hmmm", he moans as he flicks his thumb over the head of his dick, gathering the precome there before he increases his pace, thrusting his hips forwards to push his dick through the tight tunnel that his hand provides.

Dean is already panting when he lets his other hand wander down his body as well, running it teasingly up his inner thigh, before he cradles his balls in his palm, his fingers spreading outwards. The hunter shudders when his middle finger just barely grazes over his taint before he decides to deliberately push it down there a bit, moaning as the firmer touch sets his senses on fire.

He runs his fingers further down, teasing them over his taint again before he gently circles his middle finger along his hole, stifling a low, guttural groan as he pushes his hips forwards and thrusts even faster into his hand. The hot water that trickles down his body in small streams only adds to the sensation and the cold, tiled wall that he is leaning against for support presents a perfect dichotomy to his burning skin that is simmering with heat.

The hunter closes his eyes and bites his plump lower lip as the memory of being pushed up against the wall by Castiel earlier involuntarily flashes through his mind. Dean didn't intend to think about the angel while he’s getting off, but he allows the mental images to flood his mind, bringing him damn close to the edge within mere moments. He prods a finger against his hole, before he pushes it in, crooking his finger experimentally until his mind is going into overflow with all the stimulating sensations.

A few more hasty strokes of his hand and some exploring thrusts with his fingers are all that Dean needs. He closes his eyes and comes with an embarrassingly loud and high-pitched moan, his body feeling like it is being engulfed by blazing flames as he paints the tiles with hot spurts of his come.

Dean is breathing heavily as he slowly comes down from his high. When he opens his eyes, the weight of the reality he finds himself in hits him again, but he feels a bit more at ease at least, now that he has taken care of this almost painful urge. He cleans the masterpiece that he has created with his come off the tiles and proceeds to lather his body with soap, indulging in his Dean-time a little longer, because he knows that he'll be buried knee-deep in corpses, entrails and mud again in absolutely no time.

***

_give up, give in  
light the night on fire  
it sears, it derides and it leads us to fall  
walk on, walk through imitations of hell_

When Dean steps out of the shower, he feels relatively clean and almost human again. With all the things that are wrong with the world these days, it isn't easy to feel even remotely good or even _clean_ for that matter. Not when your body is constantly being soiled with a mixture of dirt, blood and other disgusting things that Dean doesn't even want to think about.

He puts on a pair of worn out jeans and an olive-colored henley which is covered with faint blood stains where the cheap motel laundry detergent wasn't strong enough to get them out. Dean doesn't care about it though, because he knows that it will be covered in fresh blood again in a matter of hours and with the Hell on Earth that is going on outside, nobody gives a damn about appearances and clean clothes anyway.

As Dean aims to leave the motel room, he catches a fleeting glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror, but he tears his gaze away promptly, because he can't even bear to look at himself. He steps outside, the demon-killing knife ready in his hand, as he makes his way through the never ending rain towards the dark clouds that are hanging low on the horizon.

It doesn't take long until Dean is approached by the first demon that was foolish enough to come near him without any kind of backup. He gets the same treatment that they all get: Dean unerringly jabs the knife through his heart and swiftly turns it around before he promptly extracts it again, letting the body hit the ground with a dull thud before he carries on, not giving his victim any further regard whatsoever.

In the darkness, Dean can only vaguely make out the blurry outlines of the heaps of rotting corpses in the distance that he had left behind in the previous days. Ever since the civil war between Heaven and Hell had started, the entire planet had fallen into darkness and to say that this didn't exactly brighten the mood of the Earth's remaining inhabitants was as much of an ironic joke as it was a vast understatement.

The suicide rates had dramatically increased and the overall mood of the occasionally passing strangers could best be described as something between aggression and depression. Dean wasn't one of these people though. Over the years, he had built up a strong armour of indifference that gave him the resilience to carry on. There were only a handful of people left, who somehow still managed to remain positive about their future and Dean was certain that they were either stoned, outright dumb or a combination of both.

On the bright side, nowadays finding a case wasn’t as hard as it used to be, because all those demons and other monsters were practically throwing themselves at Dean and all that he had to do was to carve his way through them as he took them out one after the other.

***

_when we see ourselves as deities  
claiming nature for ourselves  
by our actions we betray  
the instincts in our race  
_

_by our blindness and stupidity_  
_we kill everything_  
_we kill everything_

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when it had happened, but somehow, he had become cold and indifferent. Dean had been a hunter for most of his life, but a few years ago, he would at least have flinched or taken a deep breath to clear his mind of the thrill and excitement of the hunt whenever he had taken down a demon or a monster. Now every kill just felt like a familiar chore to Dean and it made his life under these hostile circumstances a lot easier.

There was no greater scheme or strategy to it, the only thing he had to do was to choose the right weapon and kill the monster. Simple as that. Another positive side effect of making it his mission to kill as many of those sons of bitches as he could was that he had to keep his focus sharp to not end up getting himself killed and this welcome distraction from his disturbing and painful thoughts is what got him through each and every day.

He sees a tall, furry creature approaching him, its sharp teeth only dimly glistening with saliva in the moody darkness, long claws on the hands that are hanging on either side of its body. Werewolf. Dean grabs his gun from his thigh holster and aims the silver bullet right at its heart. He hits his target and the creature falls to the ground with a shrill screeching sound.

And this is how Dean spends his time. Corpse after corpse. Day after day. Night after sleepless night. A never changing routine in what feels like a dark and pointless eternity.


	3. never to be ruled, nor held to heel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, nightmares, hints at alcoholism, cursing
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – Joy  
> \- VNV Nation - Chrome
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_have i no control, is my soul not mine?  
_ _am i not just man, destiny defined?  
_

_never to be ruled nor held to heel  
_ _no heaven or hell just the land between  
_

_am i not man, does my heart not bleed?  
_ _no lord, no god, no hate, no pity, no pain, just me_

Another body hits the ground and blood is dripping from the demon-killing blade down onto Dean’s shoe. The hunter slowly feels his limbs weakening as his body tires from the physically exhausting day that he's had. He had stopped to count the monsters he had taken down somewhere in the low thirties, but as he walks back to the motel, he certainly has to step over a lot of newly dead bodies that already have flies buzzing around them.

The thick, humid air intensifies the disgusting stench of rotting corpses, so Dean increases his pace in order to get to his destination as fast as possible. His clothes are clinging to his skin heavily with moisture, mud and blood, his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat and the freckles on his sallow skin are almost completely obscured by dirt and grime, the clean and somewhat relaxed feeling from his shower this morning long gone.

When he finally arrives back at his motel room, he immediately gets rid of his dirty shoes and his clothes, setting them down onto a mat next to the door, before he grabs a bottle of water from the little fridge and downs it in a matter of seconds, letting the cold liquid wash away the stale taste in his mouth.

Dean decides that he has definitely earned an extra drink tonight, so he steps into the shower again, washing away the crust of dirt and blood from his hair and his body unceremoniously. He continues to scrub until his skin is turning red and the water that is flowing down the drain is clear again, before he steps out of the shower and dries himself off.

The hunter scurries through the pile of clothes on his chair for something to wear and eventually settles on a pair of dark jeans, a crumpled black t-shirt and a burgundy button-up shirt that he leaves unbuttoned. He pushes the sleeves up a bit, before he ruffles through his still wet hair, puts on his other pair of shoes that is still relatively clean and leaves his room, heading for the bar next to the motel.

*******

The bar isn’t particularly crowded. It never is. There is only a handful of hopeless alcoholics that are sitting there alone each and every night, scattered around the various tables inside the bar, staring into their glasses in silence.

Dean sits down on one of the skeevy stools at the bar and gestures towards the barkeeper, who just nods in understanding. A few moments later, the burly, bearded man sets down a glass and a bottle of whiskey on the wooden counter in front of Dean. “Thanks, Rocky”, he says as he momentarily glances up to the friendly face and pours his first drink.

“How’s it going, Deano?”, Rocky asks as he leans on the counter with his sturdy arms. “Just the usual, y’know. Killed a few more of these ugly sons of bitches, but they keep on comin’”. Rocky raises his eyebrows and nods in understanding before he looks towards the door where a new customer had just entered the bar and knocks on the counter twice to excuse himself, “Keep up the good work and lemme know if I can get’cha anythin’ else.“

“You know it”, Dean answers and raises his glass towards Rocky before the barkeeper turns around and walks away to do his job. Dean sighs before he sets the rim of the glass against his full lower lip and takes a swig. He closes his eyes and relaxes against the backrest of the bar stool, slowly licking the residue of whiskey from his lips before he opens his eyes again. For a few silent moments, the hunter swirls the whiskey glass in his hand and observes how the clear brown liquid is sloshing around from side to side, his thoughts circling around everything and nothing.

***

The hunter is torn from his thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat right next to him and when he looks up from his glass, a guy that is at least one head shorter than him is looking at him expectantly. Dean sighs but musters a small, tired smile. “Look, I’m sorry pal, but I don’t think we’re playin’ for the same team”, Dean explains, but before he gets any further than that, the man that is completely clad in black raises his eyebrows in amusement and interrupts him. “Why, I think we _are_.. _Dean Winchester_ ”, his voice is gruff as the man answers in a somewhat British sounding accent.

Dean’s posture straightens up immediately and he suddenly switches into his state of hyper-awareness that he always gets into when he’s hunting, focusing on every movement that the man next to him makes. _Who is this guy and why the hell does he know his name?_

“Who are you and what do you want?”, Dean asks in full-on defense mode, his hand planted firmly on the counter, ready to move and start a fight any second if need be. “Relax”, the guy sighs in annoyance before he continues to speak in a firm voice, “The name’s Crowley. And I do, in fact, think that we could be playing on the same team. Rumor has it that you wanna take down the devil”.

“Oh...yeah?”, Dean huffs out a breathy laugh, “And why would I wanna work with _you_ , half-pint?“ Crowley laughs. “Dean Winchester, just as cocky as you’re dumb. So people _weren’t_ exaggerating”, he remarks and Dean is almost ready to throw punches at the guy when the smaller man’s eyes suddenly turn a dark shade of red. “You’re a demon”, Dean says, his hand immediately patting down the pocket of his jeans for his demon-killing knife that he had packed just in case.

“Easy, tiger”, Crowley tries to soothe him, “I have no intention to harm you. Like I said...I was hoping that we could work together”. “Hah”, Dean scoffs, an ironic smirk on his lips, his eyebrows raised in sarcastic amusement, as he musters the demon, “Working with _you_? Thanks man, but I think I’ll pass.“ Dean is just about to turn his back on Crowley for good to dedicate himself to his whiskey glass again, but the insufferable demon has apparently made it his mission to annoy him, “Think about it, Dean. I have quite a few demons on my side that want to take down Lucifer just as much as you and I do. Together we could be strong enough to kill that devil”.

“Okay... _Crowley_. Listen-”, Dean says, accentuating the demon’s name with an undertone that lets on just how disgusted he is by the idea of working with him, “I know you think that I’m stupid enough to fall for your little scheme. But I’ve got news for you, that the people who’ve told you about me probably forgot to tell ya: This is my brother you’re talkin’ about”.

Crowley makes a face and lets out an exasperated sigh, “Sam is long gone, Dean. There is no way that Lucifer has let him live for so long. He’s beyond saving and you know it.“

The hunter looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head, before he looks at the man in the dark suit again, his voice clearly tinged with anger now, “What, so you think you can just _waltz_ in here and tell me to kill my brother and I’ll jump at the chance to be your best buddy? Sorry to burst your bubble, Crowley, but there was an _army_ of angels who tried to convince me to kill Sam-.“ Saying his brother’s name like that feels like a sting to his heart, so he makes a little pause before he continues to speak, “Well and if I haven't done it for them, I'm sure as hell not gonna do it for some random demon.“

“Watch it, princess”, Crowley says sharply to which Dean immediately tilts his head in offense and opens his mouth to protest. “I’m not just some _random demon_ ”, Crowley continues without giving Dean a chance to interrupt him, “I’m the king of the crossroads. Demons respect me and if… _when_ I become the new king of Hell, it could certainly have some perks for you too”.

“Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”, Dean scoffs, “ _You_ becoming king of Hell? Well, good luck with that, but I don’t work with demons. I _kill_ them”. It is a threat, but right now the hunter rather turns his attention back to his whiskey glass and pours himself another drink before he empties the glass and sets it back on the counter with a loud clank to put more emphasis on his words, as he sees that the demon still hasn’t left.

“Still the stubborn hunter”, Crowley observes. “Get lost, Crowley! I wasn’t kidding when I said that I usually kill your kind, so you better head for the hills before I change my mind”, Dean grumbles as he fidgets with the glass in his hands, avoiding to look at the demon again.

He can see out of the corner of his eyes how Crowley straightens the lapels of his black coat as he gets up from his stool, his self-confidence still apparent in the way he stands up tall despite his size. “As you wish”, he says calmly, “If you change your mind, I’m sure you’ll be able to find out how to summon me with some of your little hunter tricks”. The demon pours some more whiskey into Dean’s glass and as soon as he sets the bottle down on the counter again, he has vanished into thin air, finally leaving Dean to himself again.

Dean empties his drink and immediately pours himself another one, thinking about the things that Crowley has said. _Sam is long gone. He’s beyond saving._ The hunter closes his eyes and rubs his fingers over the wrinkles on his forehead. “Hey, pal”, Rocky says considerately and Dean opens his eyes to look at him. The barkeeper tilts the whiskey bottle in his hand and then looks at Dean again, “If you keep drinking at that pace, you might wanna get some food inside you as a base. I’ll fix ya somethin’”. And before Dean has any time to answer, the barkeeper is leaving for the kitchen again. “Thanks, Rocky”, Dean tries to direct a smile at him as his food is served, but his overall worried expression betrays him.

***

 _hurt, the measure of blind ambition  
_ _the testament to your singular disease_  
_against all wisdom you heed no warning  
_ _your desires giving you away_

The next morning, Dean wakes up with a massive headache. The last drink had definitely been too much and right now, all he can do is be grateful that Rocky had taken care of him and brought him something to eat, no questions asked. He doesn’t even want to imagine what he would feel like if it hadn’t been for the barkeeper, who had also sent him back to his room with a big bottle of water at some ungodly hour that he doesn’t even remember right now.

He rummages around inside the bedside drawer for some painkillers and grabs the half-empty bottle of water to swallow them down before he sags back into the thin and worn out pillow and runs his hand down his face with a pitiful moan. The hunter hadn’t slept well and whenever he eventually managed to fall asleep, he had been haunted by nightmares that were filled with dark scenarios in which he was facing Lucifer and had to witness first-hand that Sam’s body was no longer his own.

No matter how bad the thumping headache from his hangover is, it is still nothing compared to the pain he feels when he thinks about Sam’s body being abused by Lucifer like this. How he is probably busy killing innocent people and wreaking havoc right at this very second, when all Sam can do is to watch the things his own hands are doing, as if he's just sitting chained up in the back row of a movie theatre.

The longer Dean thinks about his brother, the more he actually hopes that Crowley was right and that he is dead already. As much as he wants to have his little brother back, he can't bear the thought of how Sammy would feel if he knew about the things that Lucifer had made him do. Sam was the most caring and empathic person that Dean had ever known and even though he had always kind of been in a parenting role for Sam, it was really his little brother who had taught Dean a lot about compassion.

Looking at his pathetic self now, he realizes how far he has strayed from the ideal version of himself that he had always wanted to be for his little brother. How Sam would probably loathe him even more than he loathes himself if he could see him like this now.

Ever since his brother had said ‘Yes’ to Lucifer, everything had gone downhill. Dean knows that he had been trying to do the right thing, that he had tried to fight to get his brother back in the beginning. He doesn't even know when it had happened, but as the days, weeks and months had passed, Dean had lost his hope and eventually, he had even abandoned his friends...his only _family_ , because he was too much of a coward to face them and to admit that he had failed.

Dean had begun to drown his sorrows in alcohol to try and deny the painful truth. Because as much as he wanted to blame someone else for his misery and for the situation he found himself in, he knew that it was ultimately his fault that he lost his brother to the devil. It was him who couldn’t keep him from drinking demon blood and working with Ruby. It was him who couldn’t convince his brother that there was still hope and that they could fight against their destiny together. And ultimately, when all else had already failed, it was him who was too chicken to say ‘Yes’ to Michael in order to take on his duty and stop his brother, like the prophecy had wanted him to.

By being so selfish and stupid he hadn’t only trapped himself in this never-ending hamster wheel of pain, guilt and despair, he was also responsible for the downfall of the entire friggin’ world.

That’s also why he didn’t want to see Castiel anymore. He just couldn’t look at those blue eyes, that had once been so hopeful and fierce, but were now so full of sorrow and disappointment. The angel had risked everything for him when he rebelled against Heaven and all that Dean had done was to throw it all away. And even though Castiel always told him that it wasn’t his fault, Dean could see his own failure most clearly whenever he looked into the angel’s blue eyes.

What he could also see there, was the guilt that Castiel felt, because for some stupid reason, the angel was blaming himself for everything that had happened. It killed Dean to see the angel like this and all he was longing to do was to wrap Castiel up in a warm hug, to comfort him and to convince him that it was going to be okay. But deep inside, he knew that it was never going to be okay and that he would just be lying to Castiel and, most of all, fooling himself.

And so, he did the only thing he could and pushed Castiel away to keep him at a safe distance for his own good, even though he knew that it made the angel feel even more guilty. Dean couldn’t allow himself to be hopeful though, because if the angel had the feeling that there was even a spark of hope left inside of the hunter, he would fight for him until the very end, whatever it would take, even though it would be pointless and would probably end up with him being killed. And Dean just couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing him again or being the reason he got himself killed. It hurt like hell to make his best friend feel this way, but he was hoping that Castiel would eventually just abandon him and finally allow himself to lead the happy life that he deserved.

But apparently, he would have to work a lot harder on that, because just when Dean has decided that he’s not going to be of any use with this throbbing headache and is about to bury his head in his pillow again, he hears the tell-tale flapping of wings.

***

Castiel stands right next to the motel bed and looks at the outline of Dean’s huddled body that is only vaguely intelligible through the thin sheets. He observes the empty whiskey bottles that are standing next to Dean’s bed and when he looks around the room, he sees the hunter’s belongings scattered all over the place. Taking into consideration that Dean was usually a rather orderly person who liked the motel room he was occupying to be as tidy and homely as possible and would usually already be standing knee-deep in demon corpses at this time of the day, Castiel knows that something must be wrong.

The angel extends his hand and places it on top of what appears to be the hunter’s shoulder through the sheets that are still covering him. “Dean”, he says and even though his voice is as deep as ever, his tone is soft and worried. There’s only a low grumble in response, so the angel sighs as he sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress slightly dipping with his weight. “What’s wrong?”, he asks and his blue eyes are still trained on the curled up figure next to him as he rubs his thumb over Dean’s shoulder in tiny, soothing circles.

Dean turns away from him and pulls the covers over his face. “Nothing, j-just...go away”, the hunter mumbles, his voice breaking. Castiel uses a bit of force and manages to turn Dean a bit more towards him with his hand on the other man’s shoulder. His green eyes are reddened and swollen and the dampness on the thin fabric of the covers tells Castiel that Dean had been crying.

“ _Dean_ ”, Castiel says again with a sigh as he gives Dean’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Talk to me”. “There’s nothin’ to talk about”, Dean lies. As much as he just wants to lean into the warm touch of Castiel’s hand and tell the angel all about his fears and the pain that he’s going through, he can’t allow himself to be weak like that, because it will only cause Castiel to worry about him even more and that won’t be helpful at all in his plans to try to get Castiel to leave him alone for good so that he can finally start to live a happy life without Dean.

When Dean doesn’t answer him, Castiel lets his head drop forward a bit, looking at his feet as he says, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday, Dean. I don’t think that you are annoying or useless. The truth is that I couldn’t bear to see you so hopeless and I was just...I was so angry that you wouldn’t let me help you.“ The angel takes a deep breath before he continues, “I’m worried about you, Dean.“

Hearing those words feels like a knife has just been turned around in Dean’s heart. He had been a complete asshole to Castiel and there he is, _apologizing_ , when it would really be Dean’s turn to say sorry for the all the nasty things that he had said to the angel. Just the thought of Castiel beating himself up for the things that he has said…and that he had every right to say, makes Dean’s eyes sting with dwelling tears again, but he rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath to compose himself. “I’m okay”, he finally says, trying to keep his voice as steady as he can, but failing miserably.

“Yes, I can see that clearly”, Castiel answers with a sarcastic undertone in his voice, but he still sounds hurt. It’s true that Castiel had been angry at first when Dean had pushed him away again and he had even considered not coming here to talk to him again today. But he couldn’t help himself, not when he knew that something was wrong with Dean and that whatever this was, probably made him react the way he did. Castiel knows that Dean wasn’t a mean person by nature and that there is usually a reason when he loses his temper like he did yesterday.

He knows that it’s risky to start this conversation, especially now that Dean is so vulnerable, but he wants to make sure that Dean feels like this is a safe space for him to talk, so he tries to sound as calm and genuine as he can, when he says, “Dean, I know that with everything that happened with your brother-.“

“Don’t”, Dean cuts him off harshly and when he looks away to the other side, the angel realizes that he has struck a nerve. Castiel knows that it was dangerous to bring up his brother, but he has a feeling that the reason for Dean’s outburst has something to do with the guilt that he is apparently still feeling for not being able to save him. Knowing that Dean isn’t someone to talk about his problems openly, the angel decides to dial it back a bit.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Dean. I’m sorry that-“

“Yeah, ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it, Castiel”, Dean blurts out. He doesn’t mean to snap at the angel again, but he just cannot deal with him apologizing for things that aren’t his fault anymore. And maybe...hopefully, he will soon realize that there is no reason for him to apologize because it’s all just Dean’s fault.

The angel is silent for a moment, before he gets up from the bed and turns around to face Dean with a concerned expression on his face. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Dean. If you ever want to talk”, Castiel offers in a meek voice.

“Talking isn’t gonna make it all go away, you know?”, Dean says in an angry but still relatively collected voice, “I mean, look at what’s out there, man: The world’s a battlefield and the friggin’ devil is on the loose out there somewhere. That isn’t gonna go away with just words, Castiel”.

Castiel sees a spark of hope right there. When Dean is aware that talking about his problems isn’t gonna make a difference, maybe he’s willing to try to do something to find Sam. “We can try to save Sam”, he suggests, “There’s still hope-.“

“No, there isn’t”, Dean cuts him off right away, “After two years, what are the chances that he’s even alive in there? And seriously? It’s probably for the best if he’s dead”.

The answer hurts Castiel like a knife through his heart, because he knows that this admission isn’t as easy for Dean as he makes it seem. Wishing that his brother is dead even though he probably misses him like crazy must be terribly painful for Dean and the angel wishes that he could do something to ease the pain that Dean is feeling.

But even though Dean might be right with his assumption, Castiel isn’t going to back off that easily. Not when there’s still the slightest glimmer of hope that he can help Dean to make things better. “That might be true, Dean”, he says in a calm and empathic voice, “But what if he _is_ still alive?”.

“Well what then?”

“Then we could save him.”

“Could we though? I mean look what happened on friggin’ judgement day”, Dean sighs before he continues to speak in a shaky voice, “We didn’t even stand a _chance_. Why would it be different now?”

“We’ve had some time to think about things now. There are things we know now that we didn’t know back then”, Castiel tries his best to find convincing arguments, to ignite a spark of hope in Dean, “We’ve got more experience with these things now. We-“

“Oh, just cut the crap, man. I know you only wanna help, but there’s no way I’m gonna go after Lucifer again. It’s too late.”

“Why Dean?”

“Because I’m _done_ fighting and playing by other people’s rules. All they've ever done is let me down. So I’ll just fight on my own.“ Deans words cut through the angel like a knife. He is one of the people that has let Dean down. Maybe even the one that has let him down the most. He’s painfully aware that he couldn’t help Dean to save his brother and he still blames himself for that each and every day.

"Dean, don't you see what you're doing?"

"I thought that was pretty clear. I'm killing these demonic sons of bitches that deserve nothing less than a miserable and painful death."

"Yes, I can see that Dean. But what for? Are you so aimless in your blind ambition that you don't even see that it doesn't get you anywhere? You're running around in circles, Dean! Look what has become of you!"

"At least I'm helping people", Dean snaps back at him defensively.

"Which is good Dean, yes. But I feel like you have lost your focus."

"All the focus that I need is that I wanna kill these demons before they hurt anyone else."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Dean.”

"Oh, fuck off, Castiel."


	4. walk on, walk on ‘til dawn has come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, nightmares, hints at alcoholism, cursing, sexual tension
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – A Million
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_i endure, i resist what is killing me  
_ _an image invoked like a visage of hell  
_ _submit to temptation taunting my soul_  
_unlock these restraints  
_ _oh, save us all_

When Dean doesn’t see Castiel for a while after that, he thinks that he might have finally managed to scare him away for good. But instead of dwelling on the piercing pain that he feels inside his heart because of how much he actually misses the angel, he focuses his energies on killing as many demons as he possibly can. It’s all that he can do to keep himself occupied and to avoid losing his goddamn mind.

Weirdly enough, his dull everyday routine gives him some kind of comfort. He feels a strange sense of calmness in getting up after a more or less sleepless night and taking some painkillers to drown out his headache before he goes out to fight some monsters just to get back to his room a few hours later to rinse off the remainders of the day with a hot shower and a whole lot of whiskey at the bar. It gives him the feeling that, even though the world is going to hell, there is at least something that he has some kind of control over.

Dean feels like he is falling into a rut and after a while, his life becomes so dull and never changing that he starts to feel comfortably numb. Most days, he doesn’t even feel the pain of losing his brother and constantly being alone anymore. Every day is so much like the next and the one before that, that it all fades into a blur. There is rarely anything that sets one day apart from another one, so Dean doesn’t even know how much time actually passes since he has last seen Castiel. Not that it’s bothering him much anyway.

One of these mornings, he wakes up from the same old nightmare, lying in the same old motel bed, the tiny bit of light that manages to fall through the thick curtain of clouds outside the same old shade of an almost greenish dark blue as it always is. It seems to be just another one of those days, but when Dean turns around to get out of bed, he makes out the dark silhouette of a figure that is sitting on the chair right next to his bed in the half-light.

Dean is startled into a state of full wakefulness in the matter of a split second, already patting for his gun underneath his pillow, ready to shoot without asking questions at any given moment if need be, when the person on the chair suddenly moves to get up. A long coat is wafting around the man’s legs and Dean recognizes the familiar way he straightens up and tilts his head to the side like a stray puppy. “Castiel”, Dean’s tension falls off him instantly as he exhales the angel’s full name with a sigh that carries both relief and disappointment with it.

“Hello Dean”, Castiel counters in his familiar intonation that always makes Dean feel a little warm and fuzzy, although he would never admit it. He pushes these feelings aside though, because these girly sentiments aren’t going to help him at all.

“What’s the matter?”, Dean asks, trying to get this over with as quickly as he can so that he doesn’t have to deal with the feelings and memories that the angel triggers in him for much longer than necessary. “I wanted to check in on you. Our last conversation ended a bit... “, there is a little pause as Castiel is searching for the right word, “…unfortunate”.

“Yeah”, Dean scoffs, “That’s one way to put it“. A few moments pass where neither of them says a word and all they do is look into each other’s eyes, trying to read the other’s thoughts.

When the silence between them becomes almost deafening, Dean shakes his head and clears his throat as he finally manages to tear his gaze away from Castiel’s ocean blue eyes. “So”, he says, a little flustered because he caught himself staring and hopes that the angel didn’t notice anything.

“So”, Castiel mirrors his words, sounding a lot more calm and collected than Dean does, “How are you doing?”. Dean has to hold back a little laugh when he hears the angel that used to be so formal and tense say something as easy going as this. His laugh dies off again quickly though as he focuses back on what has been asked of him, pushing these feelings away, because they’re not helping him anyway.

“Well, same as always, I guess”, the hunter replies after clearing his throat, “Killin’ monsters, eatin’, sleepin’. _Rinse and repeat_.“ He tries to put on some of his usual bravado by emphasizing the last few words with a cheerful and nonchalant tone but it doesn’t seem to do much to cover the fact that he has withheld some essential information.

He realizes that he’s been caught in the act when the angel tilts his head and his gaze grows increasingly suspicious.

***

There is something about Dean’s behavior that strikes Castiel as odd. Dean is usually pretty straightforward with things and especially recently, he hasn’t put a lot of effort into sugarcoating his situation. But the way he described his routine just now sounded almost...happyl?! Or at least that is what Dean wants him to believe.

Knowing Dean for a few years now, Castiel is able to see right through the hunter’s façade though. He usually only talks in this way when he has something to hide. So Castiel decides to dig a little deeper.

“So, nothing out of the usual?”, Castiel asks Dean again as he cocks up his eyebrow, his eyes never leaving Dean’s as he steps closer to the hunter. “Nope”, Dean answers a little too quickly and the unusually high pitch in his voice doesn’t do much to help his case, “Everything’s _just_ _peachy_ “. That’s it. Castiel doesn’t believe a single word that’s coming out of Dean’s mouth right now.

The angel keeps his gaze fixed on Dean but doesn’t say anything else for now. Dean can only hold his gaze for so long, before he looks to the ground and clears his throat again. “So…um “, Dean begins, his right hand rubbing up and down the side of his neck in what Castiel identifies to be a nervous gesture that is meant to calm his nerves. Castiel observes the movement intently, as the hunter continues to speak, “I was headed to the bar just now, so- “

The angel’s eyes wander down Dean’s body and land on the demon-killing knife that’s peeking out of the pocket of the hunter’s jacket. “So, do demons frequent this bar too?”, Castiel asks, his head tilted back and his eyebrow raised as he bites his bottom lip.

***

_Fuck._

Dean doesn’t know what exactly gave him away, but he’ll be damned if that gaze doesn’t mean trouble. And even at the off chance that the angel doesn’t mean anything by it, the fact that it makes Dean feel _things_ is as undeniable as the tightness that he’s suddenly feeling in his pants, which he hopes the angel doesn’t notice.

The hunter’s eyes are fixed on the way Castiel’s teeth are slowly scraping over his bottom lip and his body unconsciously mimics the gesture by biting his own lip without his say-so. “Well”, Dean spills, unable to resist whatever the fuck this energy, that the angel is radiating, is. “There was this demon that approached me a while ago“.

“A demon?”, Castiel replies in shock and Dean is grateful that the intensity of the angel’s gaze is gone now because it makes breathing and thinking a hell of a lot easier. “Relax, man. I told him to go to hell”, Dean tries to ease the angel’s worries and wordlessly prays that he doesn’t inquire further.

But of course, Castiel doesn’t let him off the hook all that easily. “What did he want?”, he asks and Dean will be damned if there isn’t a hint of anger or even jealousy in his tone that makes his already deep voice all the more intriguingly intimidating.

“Ah well, he just babbled somethin’ about wantin’ to kill Lucifer to become the new king of Hell or whatever”, Dean answers, opting for a tone that feigns indifference. “Maybe he could be useful”, Dean adds as an afterthought that he almost immediately regrets, because he feels like he’s gonna be reprimanded for this.

And he wouldn’t be wrong.

***

“Dean, you can’t seriously be considering this”, Castiel immediately counters, appalled by the idea that Dean would even consider working with a demon. “You know what happened when-”, he continues to speak almost without thinking, but stops himself when he realizes that he’s about to put his foot in his mouth, as humans tend to say.

“When what?”, comes the instant question that he had been dreading.

The angel waits for a moment and sighs before he answers, “When Sam worked with a demon”. He attempts to read Dean’s expression, but it isn’t nearly as easy as before. It doesn’t help that the hunter doesn’t say anything either.

“Y’know, it’s not like I’m gonna hook up with some demon chick”, Dean thankfully breaks the tense and uncomfortable silence that had built between them. “I mean, first of all, he’s a _guy_ ”, the hunter emphasizes the last word as if stating the demon’s gender was already enough of an explanation in itself of why Dean wouldn’t even consider working with him, before he stops for a moment and looks up at the ceiling as if he’s trying to access his memory, “Crowley or somethin’... And second of all, I’m not gonna work with him anyway. I’m just gonna use him to get to-“

There is a pregnant pause before Dean swallows thickly and continues, “…to get to Lucifer...and that’s all“. Castiel sighs in frustration, because he knows that nothing good can come out of this. There are already hundreds of possible worst-case scenarios running through his mind at lightning speed and although he knows that Dean is probably going to be even more resistant if he tries to talk him out of pursuing this idea, he tries it anyway, "Dean, you can’t do this”.

“Why not, Castiel?”, Dean snaps back at him, “Because you’re the guardian angel perching on my shoulder tellin’ me not to?”. Castiel is a bit offended because of the way Dean tries to ridicule him with his metaphors. It doesn’t help either that Dean’s voice sounds so acidic and unfamiliar that the angel worries that he might be losing his grip on his connection with Dean for good.

More out of desperation and impulse than out of reason, he answers, “Because it’s a stupid idea”.

“Well, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any _good_ ideas”, Dean gripes back at the angel.

“There’s still hope”, Castiel tries again. Dean’s snappy reply comes almost instantaneously, “Oh, _is_ there now? Look at me, look at what I’ve become. You’ve said it yourself, Castiel. I’ve lost my focus. I’m barely a shadow of myself, all that blah blah”. Castiel winces when Dean throws his own words back to him and he once again feels remorse for ever having said those things in the first place, even though it had just been out of impulse.

***

“Dean, I- “, the angel says in an apologetic tone and Dean has to look away so that these big, pleading blue eyes don’t make him feel weak.

“No! You know, you were right”, Dean continues as he paces across the room, “I’m empty. Always just runnin’ around, killin’ random sons of bitches, no matter if they’re monsters, demons or whatever. Hell, I’d probably even kill an innocent human out of sheer boredom if there wasn’t another monster around. Just for the kick of it, y’know. Just to feel something... _anything_ at all, to make me feel like I’m still alive”.

“We could still try-”, the angel attempts, but Dean has had about enough. “It doesn’t make a difference, Castiel. _I_ don’t matter”, the hunter states and there’s not a word of a lie in his words. Dean knows damn well that it doesn’t matter how many monsters he kills or how hard he tries to make a difference. This world is fucked and it’s entirely his fault.

“You do matter, Dean”, Castiel says in his reassuring voice that feels like coming back home after an exhausting day. Dean can’t take it to hear these words come out of the angel’s mouth. After everything he’s done, not only in the bigger scheme of things, but also to Castiel personally, he doesn’t deserve to be treated with so much kindness and understanding.

Dammit, if even Dean doesn’t understand why he’s such a fucking asshole all the time, how the hell is a supposedly emotionless angel of the friggin’ Lord able to sympathize with him?

Dean knows that it’s his duty to do something though. _Anything_ that might help to repair at least a little of the damage that he has done. To prove to himself and anyone out there who still cares that he can do _something_ , even if it’s just taking accountability for the mess that he’s made.

“Yeah, you know what? Maybe I do”, he announces, his tone a lot calmer and more collected than before, “Maybe there’s a way for me to do something that matters after all. That’s why I’m gonna go and meet that demon to see what he has to say”

***

To say that this isn’t what Castiel had wanted to hear is a vast understatement. But he knows from experience that Dean is stubborn and won’t be talked out of an idea that he has set his mind to. So giving in and trying to offer his help is all that’s left for him to do.

“I could go with you”, he offers, trying to muster a soft smile.

“Yeah, sure...like a demon isn’t gonna be suspicious as fuck when I show up there with a friggin’ _wingman_ ”, Dean scoffs, “I’m going there alone”.

Dean is already on his way towards the door, when Castiel grabs his shoulder to turn him around with a little more force than might be strictly necessary. He feels the anger boiling up inside him as he stands up at full height and walks around Dean to block his way. “I don’t think you understand, Dean”, the angel says in a rough voice, “I won’t _let_ you”.

“I’m sorry”, Dean scoffs, the attitude obvious in his voice as he raises his eyebrows at the angel, “You won’t _let_ me?“.

“Exactly”, Castiel replies dryly, his head tilted backwards slightly so that he’s looking down at Dean, despite his size.

“Hah”, Dean huffs, clearly unimpressed by Castiel’s threat.

***

“I _am_ stronger than you, Dean”, Castiel reminds him, his arms crossed over his chest and even Dean can’t deny that it makes the angel look not only intimidating, but also kinda hot. But two can play this game.

“So, what do you want me to do, huh? Beg for mercy and do as you say?”, Dean asks him, making sure to lay it on extra thick with his choice of words and the way he drags his voice in that flirty and suggestive undertone. To make sure that he gets his message across, he raises his eyebrows and bites the inside of lip with the edge of his tooth in an unspoken challenge.

If nothing else, his words at least seem to hit the angel unexpectedly. He’s suspiciously silent, almost as if he’s still processing Dean’s words and what they might entail.

“Whatever”, the hunter breaks the silence eventually, before he announces, “I’m gonna head out to kill some demons”. With that, he takes a few steps to close the distance between him and the angel until the tips of their feet are touching, their chests just mere inches apart, but close enough that the hunter can feel the angel’s warmth radiating off of his body.

Dean looks into the angel’s eyes intently, before he momentarily lets his gaze flick down to his lips that look invitingly pink in the sparse light of the room.

“If you’ll allow me that is.”

The tension hangs like a thick curtain in the air between them and the way Dean deliberately tilts his head back like the angel had done earlier does nothing to resolve any of it. Even though Castiel’s gaze doesn’t give away any signs that might show that he’s in any way affected by Dean’s words and how close they’re standing, Dean can clearly feel the warmth of the angel’s labored breath that brushes over his skin.

Castiel steps away to the side though, apparently not in the mood or - as Dean likes to think - too out of it to protest further. “I’ll be back”, the angel announces before he vanishes again to God knows where.

***

Castiel does stay true to his promise and checks in with Dean in the days and weeks that follow. He usually visits the hunter twice a day and as much as Dean secretly feels a sense of relief and warmth whenever he sees the angel, he can’t help but feel like he’s being monitored. As if he’s a friggin’ child that needs supervision. And it’s not like Dean has been doing anything out of the usual or even thought or attempted to contact Crowley in any way.

But there comes a day, where he decides that he’s had enough of this.

From that day on, he gets back to his room from his daily hunting sprees a little earlier than usual to do some research. He digs up some of his Dad’s old books and journals and reads for an hour or so before heading to the bar at night. These tiring hours of research painfully remind him of his brother’s absence again, because unlike him, Sam had always been happy to be engrossed in all sorts of nerdy and boring books, so research had almost been like second nature to him.

At first, the pain slows Dean down a little, because it’s difficult for him to suppress these feelings, especially when he’s alone at night. But after some time and maybe a little more whiskey than usual, the pain only makes him work harder.

The thought that all this might be over once he’s finally able to get this plan on the road makes him carry on until, after a few days of frustrating and fruitless research, he finally finds what he had been looking for.

***

When Castiel returns to check on him the next morning at his usual time, everything is prepared already. Castiel can barely see the blood dripping from Dean’s palm, can’t even open his mouth to protest before it’s too late and the hunter presses his bloody palm against the motel wall that he had already prepared with an angel banishing sigil, painted from his own blood. The hunter only sees the shocked expression on the angel’s face before a bright flash of white light fills the small motel room and as soon as it’s gone, so is the angel.

Dean realizes that his time until the angel is able to get back to him is limited, so after he’s done tending to the still bleeding slash wound on his palm, he gets to work right away. He had found an old demon summoning spell in one of his Dad’s old journals. Getting a hold of all these obscure ingredients hadn’t exactly been easy, especially because he had to schedule his grocery runs carefully around Castiel’s regular visits and with the world going to hell, most shops in town weren’t all that well stocked.

But after some digging around, he had eventually managed to get everything that he needed for the spell. He pulls the ingredients out of a box that he had stashed away under his bed, out of sight of the angel’s ever observant eyes.

He grinds the dry ingredients in a mortar and mixes them together thoroughly before he flips through the pages of his Dad’s old journal again to find the corresponding incantation. He lights a match and throws it into the little bowl before he speaks the Latin words that are written in his Dad’s familiar handwriting.

Crowley appears right on the carpet that Dean had painted the devil’s trap under the night before, just like he had hoped he would. He’s wearing the same all-black suit and coat that he had worn when the hunter had first met him in the bar a few weeks ago.

“Look who we’ve got here”, Crowley says in his mockingly cheerful voice, which instantly makes Dean wanna punch that smug smile right off his face, “ _Dean Winchester_ , a sight for sore eyes on a morning like this. What a pleasant surprise!”.

Dean rolls his eyes at the demon and sighs in exasperation. “Took you long enough!”, Crowley adds, acting like he’s offended. “Alright jackass, let’s just get this over with”, Dean grumbles at him, not having any patience whatsoever for bullshit like that before he’s even had his first coffee.

“My, my! Mind your manners, _boy_! That is no way to greet a guest”, Crowley complains with a sarcastic, condescending attitude that already has Dean kinda regretting that he has even called the demon in the first place, “Could at least have cleaned up this dump a bit before you called”. The demon looks around the room before he fixes his gaze on the little table in the corner of the room, “Oh, but I see you got me a little refreshment at least”.

Dean’s whole body tenses up in anticipation when Crowley sets out to move in the direction of the whiskey bottle and the glass that are still standing on the table from the night before. He prepares himself for his personal _‘Gotcha!’_ -moment as the demon approaches the outer corner of the carpet.

But instead of stopping dead in his tracks like he should, Crowley walks right over the border of the devil’s trap and reaches for the bottle to fill up the glass.

He calmly pours himself a drink before he sets the bottle down again and musters the hunter’s face critically. “What’s with the long face, dear?”, the demon asks as he gestures his right hand in front of his own face in a circular motion.

“ _Oh”,_ Crowley exclaims in feigned surprise, “You thought this little devil’s trap was gonna work on me? So sorry to disappoint you, darling”.

The flirty yet deprecating tone that Crowley uses on him is irritating the living hell out of Dean and he’s sick of these little games that the demon is playing with him. “What the hell are you?”, he barks at him.

“Didn’t you pay attention? I told you that I’m the king of the crossroads and that I’ve got some power down in Hell. I’ve got to say that I’m a little disappointed though. I thought we were _friends_ ”.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Huh, _friends_ ”, he scoffs, his eyebrows raised sarcastically. Now it’s the demon’s turn to sigh in annoyance. He slowly seems to be losing his patience with Dean’s bossy and impertinent attitude. “Call it whatever you want”, the demon says as he raises his hands in a gesture of resignation, “I’ve got something that _you_ want and you can help me to get something that _I_ want. So, I guess that makes us allies at the very least”.

The hunter shudders at the thought of working together with this guy, as he thinks back to what Castiel had said a few days ago. Working with a demon sure as hell hadn’t done his brother any favors, so what makes Dean think that it would be different for him? And how the hell did he even manage to get himself into this messed up situation in the first place?

He should be smart enough to know that this isn’t going to end well. Demons are two-faced liars and his gut is telling him that he has to be especially careful with this one, because if he was able to cross devil’s traps without flinching, who knows what else he can do?

But it’s not like any of this mattered now. All that matters is that this might be his only shot to finally clean up at least a bit of the mess that he had created and to get certainty about whether his brother was still alive. And if that means that he has to work with this demonic assclown, so be it.

“Yeah, whatever, Crowley. Can we get to the point now or do you need me to make you a friendship bracelet first?”, he says, trying to match the condescending and rude tone of the demon in an attempt to mend his broken ego a little.

“Fine”, Crowley says through gritted teeth, “Meet me there tomorrow at noon”. The demon smooths over the fabric of his sleeve with his hand and before Dean can even ask what the hell _‘there’_ is supposed to mean, Crowley vanishes into thin air again, a little slip of paper dropping down onto the floor, exactly where he had been standing just a split second ago.


	5. to the darkened skies once more and ever onward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, hints at alcoholism, cursing.
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – Darkangel
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_give me time, i will be clear  
_ _given time you'll understand  
_ _what possesses me  
_ _to right what you have suffered_

_i'm in this mood because of scorn  
_ _i'm in a mood for total war_  
_to the darkened skies once more  
_ _and ever onward_

***

Much to Dean’s surprise, Castiel doesn’t pay him another visit before it’s time for him to go out and meet Crowley. There’s a brief moment where he wonders whether Castiel is still attempting to get back to him from wherever the hell it is that angels are banished to when you use that blood sigil, or whether he has moved on and is already knee-deep in some heavenly battle of his own again. But Dean pushes these sentiments and the remorse, that bubbles up when he allows himself to dwell on these thoughts for too long, aside as far as he can.

He’s got a plan now and there’s nothing on Earth that’s gonna stop him from going through with it, so it doesn’t really matter where Castiel is anyway.

It’s 11:58 when the Impala pulls up at the address that Crowley had given Dean. When he gets out of the car, the hunter looks at the bar in front of him in confusion. He doesn’t really know what he had expected to find here, but it sure as hell wasn’t some fancy-looking bar.

Dean opens the door and tries his best to not immediately stagger backwards a few steps as he is immediately hit with a strong wave of thick, warm air that smells like someone lit one of those esoteric hippie stores on fire.

“Aloha”, a skinny waiter with long braided hair, a beard and an unbuttoned white linen shirt greets Dean, a way-too-bright smile plastered across his face, “How can I help you?“. This must be one of those the-world-is-beautiful stoners that didn’t get the memo that the world is going to hell yet.

The hunter briefly raises his eyebrows at the guy before he looks around the bar. He catches Crowley sitting in a corner, next to some tropical looking plants. Dean looks back at the waiter again and gestures towards Crowley as he asks, “Can you get me a beer over there?“.

“Of course, just a minute”, stoner guy answers with another bright smile before he vanishes behind a bamboo curtain. For a moment, Dean wonders how someone can be so happy when the world around them is so fucked up and obviously falling apart a bit more every day. But apparently, ignorance really is bliss.

“ _Aloha_ ”, Dean mockingly greets Crowley in a gruff voice, but even with his grumpy mood, he can’t bite back a laugh as he scrutinizes the vast amount of tiny little umbrellas and glittery tinsel thingies that Crowley’s colorful cocktail is adorned with. “What the hell is this place?”, he asks, his tone somewhere between bewildered and amused.

“I have to admit that it might not exactly be the location where you’d imagine having a business discussion with a demon, but that’s exactly what makes it _perfect_. These people here are way too stoned to even think about asking any questions”, Crowley answers as he glances around to make Dean aware of the woozy-looking customers that are more hanging in their chairs than they are sitting, “Plus, they’re generous with the booze”.

To emphasize his point, the demon raises his glass to take a sip of his girly-looking cocktail through a pink twisty straw and Dean has to look away to keep himself from bursting out laughing. For all of his big king of the crossroads talk, the guy’s whole behavior is just too ridiculous.

His train of thought is interrupted when the waiter sets a bottle of beer down in front of Dean. “Mahalo”, the guy says with another one of those hazy smiles and the thick smell of marihuana is clearly noticeable in his breath. The hunter grabs the neck of the bottle and turns it around in his hand as he looks at the label. _Organic_. What else had Dean expected really? He rolls his eyes, but sets the bottle to his lips, chugging back half the bottle before he sets it back down on the table with a thud.

“ _So_ , king of the pink umbrellas”, Dean says with comically raised eyebrows. Crowley throws him an angry glance, his eyes squinted and his eyebrows knitted. “ _Careful_ , Winchester”, he says in his gravelly voice, “Just because we have the same interests, doesn’t mean that I can’t rip you apart if you’re getting too full of yourself. I can easily do this without you, you know?”.

Dean taps against the bottle and trails his finger up to swipe off a drop of condensed water, unaffected by the demon’s threat. “Yeah, no reason to get your panties in a twist”, the hunter scoffs, “You said somethin’ about a plan?!“

The hunter takes Crowley’s sharp exhale and the annoyed facial expression that goes with it as a win. However, the demon doesn’t seem to be in the mood for more teasing, as he gets straight to business, “Does the name Cain mean anything to you?”.

“You mean like Cain and Abel?”, Dean says, scrunching up his face as he leans back into his chair a little. Crowley nods with a sly smile on his lips, “The one that murdered his own brother, yes”.

Dean’s throat clicks as he swallows around the lump that is forming there while he lets Crowley’s words sink in. He knows that this was what Crowley had wanted to talk to him about right from the start, but there’s still a shudder that ripples through his entire body when he hears it put into direct and unmistakably clear words like that.

Crowley seems to sense his inner struggle, because he clears his throat and taps his fingers on the table to get Dean’s focus back to the present. “Because that’s essentially how our little collaboration is going to go down as well” Crowley reminds him again and when Dean doesn’t react for a moment, he adds an expectant, “ _Right?_ ”.

“Yeah, we’re gonna kill _Lucifer_ ”, Dean answers with a nod, trying not to think about the fact that Lucifer is currently possessing the body of his brother Sam. He empties his beer in an attempt to clear his mind from these painful thoughts, before he asks, “So how is this Cain gonna help us with that?”.

Crowley smiles like the cat that got the cream before he starts to explain his plan, “So, you’ve probably heard the old version of the story where the firstborn brother Cain kills his younger brother Abel because he was jealous of Abel being God’s favorite”. Dean nods as he absentmindedly traces the wood structure of the table with his fingernail.

“While it’s true that he _did_ kill his brother, that isn’t the entire truth. Because what really happened, is that Abel was in contact with Lucifer”, Crowley continues and Dean raises his eyebrows at that but doesn’t ask anything yet, instead giving Crowley the chance to finish what he’s about to say, “Cain was afraid that Lucifer might corrupt his brother, so he offered him a deal: his soul in Hell, so that Abel could go to Heaven instead. Lucifer agreed, on the condition that Cain himself would kill his younger brother.”

Crowley takes another sip from his ridiculously colorful drink and Dean braces himself for what’s still to come.

“So, Cain killed his brother using a weapon called the First Blade, setting the precedent of their descendants - you and your sasquatch brother – being the vessels of Michael and Lucifer. In short: He’s the one that’s responsible for that destiny you two pinheads fought so hard to avoid”.

Dean takes a deep breath and tries not to think about the fact that he’s about to work with the man that kinda started this whole mess in the first place. He also tries not to think back to how Sam finally gave in and said ‘Yes’ to Lucifer and how all of that turned out. Instead, he focuses his attention on Crowley, trying to piece together the clues that the demon has given him already, “So I guess we need that blade to kill Lucifer, huh?”.

“Exactly”, Crowley nods, “But that’s not the only thing we need from Cain”. Dean eyes his empty beer bottle, before he waves it at the waiter, who nods in response. Whatever it is that Crowley is going to say next, Dean is sure that this one beer wouldn’t be enough to prepare him for it.

The waiter sets a fresh bottle of beer down in front of Dean a few moments later. “This one’s on the house”, he says and winks at him flirtatiously, before he knocks on the table and turns around to leave again. Dean feels a warm flush in his cheeks as Crowley gives him a not-so-subtle once-over. Dean tries to ignore it by clearing his throat, but he still doesn’t look up from the table as he asks, “So what else do we need to kill that sonofabitch?“

Crowley barely stifles his snicker, but thankfully doesn’t dwell on embarrassing Dean any further for the time being. “After Abel’s death, Lucifer transferred a mark onto Cain’s arm. That mark is somehow bound to the First Blade and it turned him into a reckless killer”, Crowley continues before he takes a dramatic pause, “It’s said that together with the Mark of Cain and the First Blade, the bearer can kill _everything_ ”, he concludes his story and looks at Dean expectantly.

“So, what you’re saying is that we’re gonna have to convince Cain to give me his mark _and_ the First Blade?”, Dean summarizes, before he takes another sip of his beer. “Exactly”, Crowley answers. “And you think he’s just gonna do that from the goodness of his heart? I mean, come on, you just told me that this guy’s a killing machine that could easily take us both out”, Dean scoffs back at the demon, his tone now somewhere between annoyed and worried.

“You’re right, he won’t give us what we want just because we ask nicely…even though you seem to be quite the _guy magnet_ ”, Crowley remarks with a huffed laugh that has Dean grabbing the edge of his seat to keep himself from snapping back at the demon in defense, “But with everything that Lucifer has taken from him, I assume that he wouldn’t say no to some good old-fashioned revenge.“

Dean takes some time to consider it and the longer he thinks about it, the more he feels like Cain’s situation isn’t all that different from his own after all. Lucifer took their little brothers from both of them and he turned both of them into killers, although Dean isn’t sporting any kind of mark on his arm to account for that so far. The general theme sounds painfully familiar though.

He chugs down the rest of his beer before he asks, “So how are we gonna do this?”.

Crowley smiles mischievously as he glances at Dean over the rim of his cocktail glass, “While you were busy moping around and considering my offer, I’ve had some of my demons putting their feelers out to get Cain’s location. Meet me here again tomorrow afternoon at 4. We can have a nice cuppa tea before we head over to Cain’s house”. Dean rolls his eyes but eventually just nods at the demon.

“And leave your weapons at home next time. We’re just gonna have a nice little chat with our pal and I don’t want this situation to escalate. Not that you could harm him with that little butter knife of yours anyway”, Crowley demands as he throws a glance at Dean’s pocket that contains the demon killing blade.

Dean huffs but eventually agrees in annoyance. He’ll still have some time to think this through until they meet again. “Is that all? This place is giving me a headache and I could use some fresh air”, he asks in a bossy tone.

“See you tomorrow, darling”, Crowley says with a teasing little smile and Dean rolls his eyes at the nickname as he gets up and leaves the table without another word. He puts a few dollar bills on the counter and nods the waiter goodbye with a blank expression on his face. No reason to further lead this guy on or make him believe that he even has the slightest chance.

Once he’s back outside, Dean takes a few deep breaths of relatively fresh air before he sits down behind the steering wheel of the Impala again. The thick layer of dust on the varnish is only one of the clearly visible signs that Baby has seen better days, but Dean can’t bring himself to care about it too much. As much as he used to love his car, there are more pressing matters that he has to deal with right now.

***

When Dean gets back to his motel room, Castiel is already waiting for him.

“Where have you been?”, the angel asks him in a demanding tone, skipping any and all courtesies. “Good to see you too”, Dean scoffs back at him with a roll of his eyes.

Castiel pushes himself away from the table that he had been leaning against and takes a few steps towards Dean. “I asked you something”, the angel’s voice is cold and sharp and Dean shudders as Castiel steps closer into his personal space. Dean has to force himself to look away from the angel’s piercing gaze before he can mutter his answer, but it comes out sounding a lot meeker and more defensive than what he had intended, “Relax man, I was just outside”.

The reluctance in his voice seems to give him away, because the angel immediately counters it with another question. “Did you meet him?” and Dean will be damned if he doesn’t hear at least a tiny hint of jealousy in that question. With the judgement so obvious in Castiel’s question, Dean can’t help but to go into full-on defense-mode by lashing back at him, “What does it matter to you?“.

But Castiel isn’t having any of that. Instead of the thunderstorm that Dean had expected, the angel steps back a bit and inhales audibly before he asks again, “Did you?”. This time, his voice sounds more hurt and heartbroken than anything and Dean feels like someone has just squeezed every last bit of air out of his lungs.

Dean tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, but he can’t manage to get any words out. The long silence in the room feels heavy and the expression of betrayal in Castiel’s eyes weighs him down even more. The hunter feels like he’s being pinned in place by his guilt and for a moment it feels like time has stopped around him.

When he finally hears the angel speak again, he feels a tiny spark of relief, but it doesn’t last for long.

“I don’t know why you don’t trust me and I guess there’s nothing I can do to change that”, the hurt in Castiel’s voice is still there, but it is soon replaced with something between anger and disgust, “But do you really think I’m that stupid, Dean? The smell of sulfur is all over you”. With this anger directed at him, the gears of Dean’s fight-or-flight mode are kicked into motion almost immediately.

“So what?”, Dean spits back at the angel, “It’s none of your business, Castiel”. There’s a voice in the back of his head that tells him that he’s treating the angel wrong, but it dies down the more Dean embraces the anger that’s fueling inside his stomach. It’s not like Castiel deserves any of the anger that Dean is directing at him, but it’s all he can do to defend himself now that he’s basically being backed into a corner.

“Maybe it isn’t”, the angel answers and it seems like he’s trying to sound as reasonable and calming as possible, “But it is my business that you’re _lying_ right to my face”.

“I’m not lying to you”, Dean counters immediately and it’s more out of impulse than anything. “Okay then”, Castiel says in a firm voice, his facial features set like concrete. There is an uncomfortable silence and the air between them suddenly feels like it’s charged with an explosive gas that just needs the tiniest spark to set it off.

Dean looks back at Castiel expectantly, the wind being taken out of his sails for the time being, but he’s waiting for that inevitable spark that’s going to tip the scale and ignite the charged air between them.

Castiel paces around the room for a moment, before he comes to a halt directly in front of Dean. When Dean looks back at the wounded expression in the angel’s eyes, it feels like someone is clawing at his heart with some motherfucking sharp claws, tearing him apart from the inside. And then comes that spark.

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not working with Crowley.”

It’s just one sentence but it makes Dean feel more paralyzed than he’s ever felt. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he’s unable to say anything. When the hurt in Castiel’s eyes becomes too much to bear, Dean looks down at his feet, still not capable to form any words.

“Dean, we can still fix this”, Castiel growls at him and there’s a thunderstorm of different emotions when he speaks, “There are other ways to save your brother”. It’s probably the most emotional that Dean has ever seen the angel, but doesn’t matter anymore. Dean has made his plan and it’s too late to change his mind now.

“There was a time when I used to believe that, I really did. But now I realize that there isn’t anything left to fix”, Dean explains and his heart sinks when he finally puts into words what he has known in his heart for a while, but was too afraid to say out loud until just now, “Sam is gone”.

“You don’t know that”, Castiel counters immediately, “There’s still a chance that Sam is alive and that we can help him”. There’s a light of hope that fills the angel’s eyes, but Dean can’t bring himself to have the same optimism. He has held on to the foolish belief that Sam would eventually shake himself free of Lucifer and return to him for long enough. But now he knows that the chances of that are slim to nonexistent.

“It’s not as easy as that”, Dean defends himself, “It’s complicated”.

“No, actually it’s not and you know that, Dean”, the angel throws back at him, “Why else would you keep this a secret unless you knew that it was wrong? You know that making deals with demons is never going to end well. What I don’t understand is why you would just give up. We can figure this out Dean, just like we always have.”

Even though Castiel’s words sound so warm and familiar, they only strengthen Dean’s resolve. These are the words that he has said to his brother and even to Castiel time and time again. But when did they ever turned out to be true? He has been clinging on to the hope that they can fix things for so long, but in the end, he still ended up here, alone and desperate enough to work with a demon.

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that”, Dean sighs, “Where were you when I needed to hear it?”. He looks into the angel’s eyes again and Castiel’s answer makes his eyes sting, “I was there. Where were you?”.

When Dean doesn’t say anything, Castiel tries to convince him again, his deep voice now a lot softer, “You should have asked me for help, Dean. I know I’ve been busy with everything that’s been going on in Heaven, but I would’ve been here in a heartbeat”.

The fact that Castiel still seems to care so much about Dean has his heart aching. But he can’t keep this up any longer. He has to stop relying on the angel’s help and his seemingly neverending forgiveness and patience. “It’s too late now”, Dean says as he turns around to leave. He still feels Castiel’s eyes on him, but he can’t look back now or his resolve will all but melt away.

When Dean comes back to the motel room later that night after having a few drinks at the bar, Castiel is gone. After Dean had stormed off like that and didn’t return for another few hours, it’s not a surprise really, but somehow the weight of being alone still feels more painful than ever before tonight.


	6. i cannot taste the anger, rage leaves me undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Panic/anxiety attacks, nightmares, trauma, graphic descriptions of violence, cursing, sexual tension.
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – Immersed  
> \- VNV Nation - God of All
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_i cannot taste the anger_ _  
_ _rage leaves me undone_ _  
_ _and vices of the flesh won't satisfy_

_innocence could serve us_ _  
_ _if purity was truth_ _  
_ _forbidden words are like a loaded gun_

_conscience won't betray you_ _  
_ _when purity is gone_ _  
_ _wounds are worn like medals long adorned_

Convincing Cain to transfer his mark to him turned out to be much less difficult than Dean had thought. When they met Cain in his cabin, the guy had been a bit pissed off at first, which was kinda understandable, given the fact that they had basically just waltzed in there into his secret hiding place in the boondocks, which he had believed to be the safest space in the universe for him. But after they had gotten over that initial little bump, it didn’t take too much effort until he eventually agreed to give them what they wanted.

While the act of transferring the Mark onto Dean’s arm had hurt like a bitch, it didn’t have nearly as much of a painful impact on him as Cain’s words did. In fact, these words are still resounding in Dean’s mind and they’re also what’s keeping him from falling asleep right now.

_With the Mark comes a great burden. Some would call it a great cost._

_I threw the First Blade to the bottom of the deepest ocean. It's the only way I could keep my promise to Colette._

_Good luck, Dean. You're gonna need it._

As the words are racing through his head at lightning speed, his mind comes up with a vivid reenactment of the stories that Cain had told them. It’s almost like Dean can feel Cain’s inner turmoil, the raging anger that made his blood boil and turned him into the killer that he was, and his recklessness that pushed him to kill without regret.

But the most vivid feeling of them all and at the same time also the most painful one, is the heartbreak that Cain must have felt when he had killed his own wife Colette. She had been the one person that had always put her hope and trust in him, no matter what. She was the person who never stopped believing that Cain was, deep down in his heart, still a good man.

Dean feels his heartrate increasing as he tries to push these feelings and the unwanted associations and parallels that his mind is coming up with away.

He can’t allow himself to think about Castiel and his loyalty now.

_Lucifer. He has to kill Lucifer._

He tries to focus on that thought in an attempt to ignore the fear of the impact that this mark might have on him if he isn’t careful enough. He can’t let that fear distract him now.

_Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer._

The more he thinks about Lucifer and the pain that he has caused him and his family, the more his fear is replaced with anger.

 _‘Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to_...’, the pop culture reference part of brain supplies, but he pushes that thought right back where it came from when a pounding ache begins to spread through his arm. He presses his palm down on the Mark and grits his teeth, trying to hold on until the pain fades.

When it doesn’t, Dean picks up his phone and frantically types a text message.

‘Find the blade. Now.’

Dean picks the phone number that Crowley had given him and hits ‘send’. The thought that he might sound desperate is just on his mind for a splinter of a second, but the hammering in his chest keeps him from giving it too much thought. He drops his phone back on the nightstand and takes a deep breath in an attempt to ease his mind and will his pounding heart to slow down.

***

He doesn’t know exactly at what point his spiraling thoughts had ended and when they had started to transition into nightmares and if he’s being honest, Dean doesn’t even know if he has slept at all, but when he comes back to something that resembles consciousness, his shirt is clinging to his back with cold sweat. His heart is still pounding like crazy and his head feels like someone had been playing dodgeball with it.

With all of his history, Dean should be used to his painful nightmares by now, but this time, they had been slightly different than usual. Because this time, it wasn’t only his brother’s face that was contorted by Lucifer’s ugly, demonic grimace that haunted him in his dreams, but also his own seething rage that had turned his dream self into a man that he hadn’t been able to recognize anymore.

The seamless transition from his spiraling fears into his nightmares is also what makes it even more difficult for Dean to do his usual reality check. He forces himself to focus on his surroundings, but despite all of his efforts, it takes him another few minutes until he realizes that it wasn’t only his nightmare that had caused him wake up.

When he turns his head to the side, he sees a blurry version of Castiel that’s sitting on the chair next to his bed, the concern visible in his deep blue eyes. Dean has to shake his head again to make himself realize that this is real. That the angel sitting there in his motel room is his reality and that his nightmares were just that: nightmares. He takes another deep breath and tries to keep his eyes open, focusing on the angel’s eyes in a desperate attempt to hold on to reality.

It takes him another few moments until he notices that there’s also a hand that’s resting on his shoulder. The touch of Castiel’s hand feels way too warm right now, since he’s already sweating, but instead of complaining, he leans into the touch, trying to strengthen his grip on reality as if he’s holding on for dear life.

“Dean”

Somehow, his own name sounds kinda foreign to him right now and in his haze, Castiel’s voice appears so dull that Dean feels like he’s a million miles away, wrapped in a thick and impermeable layer of cotton that’s suffocating him. That dull and numb feeling is quickly replaced with a sharp pain that burns through Dean as if a blunt razorblade is being dragged through his flesh. He groans in pain and pushes his head back into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“ _Dean_ ”, Castiel says again and it’s a bit louder this time, his voice unnaturally shrill as his way too warm hands frame Dean’s face. _Too hot. Too much._ Dean shakes his head vigorously until the hands fly away and he balls his own hands into fists, gripping the sheets next to him tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.

He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but he suddenly feels something cold and wet on his forehead and it forces a whine from his lungs. After the initial shock, the cold helps him to regain a bit of his focus, his breath slowly but surely slowing down enough for him to be able to open his eyes again.

The room around him is still a bit blurry and it takes him a few more deep breaths until everything slowly gets back into focus. In the corner of his eye, he sees the blurry outline of Castiel’s arm and it takes his mind another few moments to process that the angel is probably holding a cold, wet towel against his forehead. He lets out a quiet whimper that causes Castiel to look directly into his eyes.

There’s an audible sigh of relief before the angel speaks again, this time in a low and soothing voice, “There you are. Please look at me, Dean“. Dean does as he’s told, but when he tries to swallow, he breaks out in a cough because his throat is way too dry. Castiel’s arm immediately disappears out of his field of vision and before Dean’s eyes are even able to follow the movement, he hears a dull thud next to his head and the sound of a liquid being poured.

A moment later, he feels something solid behind his shoulders that is urging him upwards. He tenses his sore muscles and manages to sit up with Castiel’s help, although it takes him a lot more effort than usual. The angel takes the damp towel, which has turned lukewarm by now, away from his forehead and hands him a glass of water that Dean downs in a single gulp. The way the cold liquid trickles down his parched throat feels uncomfortable at first, but eventually, Dean feels like the burning sensation is soothed at least a little.

“Do you want me to bring you another cold towel? Some more water?”, Castiel asks, the worry still visible in the way his forehead is scrunched up into wrinkles. “I think I’m good for now”, Dean answers, still a little out of breath, “I could definitely use a shower though”. There’s another sigh of relief before Castiel asks, “Do you think you can stand up on your own?”. Without answering, Dean swings his legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand up a little too hastily.

A wave of vertigo hits him hard and Dean feels more hungover than he’s ever felt in his entire life. He staggers backwards slightly, but manages to catch himself in the last moment. The angel looks at him with a wary expression on his face as if he’s about to say something, but he seems to decide against it as he drops his hands that he had already reached out to catch Dean.

***

Castiel watches intently as Dean slowly makes his way to the bathroom, the back of his grey t-shirt entirely drenched in sweat. He tries not to look at the way the fabric clings to the muscles of Dean’s back, instead focusing on his footsteps that still look a little clumsy. When the door to the bathroom finally closes, Castiel sags back into the chair a little, releasing the tension that had built in his back as he allows his muscles to relax.

After the fight he had with Dean yesterday, Castiel hadn’t expected to find the hunter in a good mood when he came back to the motel room this morning, but he hadn’t thought that it would be this bad. He had never seen Dean in such a bad condition before and that meant something, since the two of them have already been through a lot together. But what he had seen this morning was unlike anything Castiel had ever witnessed before.

From the looks of it, Dean hadn’t even been able to distinguish between reality and whatever it was that his panic attack had made him see. The fact that Dean didn’t even seem to notice his presence until he had placed that cold towel on his forehead makes the angel wonder what exactly that demon had done to Dean and he feels his blood starting to boil with anger at the thought.

He doesn’t get to dwell on the worst-case scenarios that his mind comes up with for too long though, as the monotonous sound of the running shower suddenly stops. After that, it only takes a few more minutes until the bathroom door swings open and Dean steps back into the room again, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Castiel’s gaze follows a stray drop of water that had fallen down from Dean’s wet hair and is now slowly making its way along the curve of his shoulder, flowing further down over Dean’s chest, making its way right next to his left nipple and down his abs before it completes its winding path by vanishing into the dip between the hunter’s tan skin and the clean white towel.

It takes a few seconds until Castiel registers that his eyes have probably been lingering on Dean’s bare torso for too long. He averts his gaze, looking downwards, but as his eyes start roaming down over the white towel that is loosely wrapped around Dean’s lower body, he thinks better of it and forces himself to look out of the window instead. Dean’s silent scoff is barely audible, but the angel picks it up anyway and in this moment, Castiel is really grateful that he’s got enough control over his vessel to keep himself from blushing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees how the hunter picks up some things from the pile of clothes on the dresser, before he vanishes into the bathroom again. Castiel exhales a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding as he waits for Dean to return again.

A few minutes later, Dean gets back from the bathroom, dressed in a black V-neck shirt and a pair of tight jeans. Castiel tries to ignore the way the hunter’s tight clothes are hugging his body in just the right way that enhances his muscular body shape even further. He shifts in his seat a little, trying to will away the uncomfortable tension in his pants without looking all too suspicious as he watches the way Dean’s muscles are moving under the thin and slightly translucent fabric of his shirt. His gaze wanders down Dean’s upper arm until an unfamiliar, inflamed red shape on his right arm catches his eye.

Castiel is out of his chair almost immediately and it doesn’t even take him two seconds until he has crossed the distance between himself and Dean and carefully drags his thumb along the reddened, tender skin on Dean’s forearm.

***

The touch of the angel’s fingers stings on the sensitive skin around the Mark and Dean hisses sharply as he immediately pulls his arm away.

“Dean, what have you done?”, Castiel asks, his voice sounding startled as he winces at the sight.

“It’s nothing”, Dean lies as he turns around to grab a button up shirt that he can wear over his t-shirt. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me”, Castiel reprimands him, but Dean looks away in the foolish hope that the angel might leave him alone if he just ignores him for long enough.

As he had already expected, this hope is destroyed soon enough, when the angel starts to ask more questions. “What has this demon done to you, Dean?”, he asks with that familiar worry in his tone that still doesn’t fail to make Dean cringe with a mix of guilt and self-loathing, “Let me help you… _please_ ”.

“I don’t need your help, Castiel”, he snaps back at the angel, his metaphorical wall of defense pulled up faster than he’s used to, “Crowley didn’t do anything to me and I’m _fine_ ”. Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not even knowing why he’s so angry all of a sudden.

Sure, anger has always been his go-to defense mechanism whenever he’s feeling vulnerable, but the rate at which his blood is boiling already still takes him by surprise. Because no matter how angry he is, there’s usually still a bit of immediate remorse that hits him after lying or snapping back at a friend like that. But right now, there’s nothing but rage and anger, as the urge to get rid of Castiel as soon as possible pushes to the forefront of his mind faster than Dean dares to admit.

That urge is only intensified when the angel huffs a laugh that sounds more ironic than anything, “You didn’t look fine when I found you here earlier“. The rational part of Dean’s mind wants to take a step back and think for a moment before he answers, but the words leave his mouth before he can stop himself, “How many times do I have to tell you that it’s none of your fucking business? Just leave me alone and mind your own business, will ya?“

The angel’s eyes widen in shock and there’s an audible gasp that falls from his lips. Castiel tilts his head to the side as he carefully steps closer to him and it almost seems like he’s afraid to aggravate Dean. After taking another breath, he asks “Why are you so angry?”, his voice sounding a lot calmer and more collected than before.

“I’m not _angry_ ”, the hunter growls back at him and he almost flinches at his own rage that’s still so unfamiliar to him. “Yeah, I can see that”, Castiel remarks and Dean wonders for a moment when the hell the awkward angel had started to use sarcasm. But instead of being proud of him, it makes the hunter even angrier. Dean can’t even put his finger on why he’s so angry at the angel. After all, he had never done anything but to support Dean, even though it didn’t always work out as well as he had hoped.

But somehow being around Castiel reminds Dean of better times and whenever he allows himself to think about those, he is inevitably reminded of his failures as well. The angel is the last tiny part that is still left of his old life and after all the pain he has endured, Dean is ready to leave that behind himself for good.

The hunter exhales through gritted teeth before he picks up his phone to check his messages to find a new text message from Crowley. Apparently, he has been successful with the First Blade and Dean feels a sudden spur of anticipation running through the veins of his right arm. It’s almost like the Mark is somehow being activated by the prospect of being reconnected with the First Blade again and Dean would be lying if he said that it didn’t scare the living crap out of him.

“Dean, you’re shaking”, Castiel tears the hunter from his thoughts and Dean is more than keen to finally leave that overly worried angel behind him. “Yeah thanks for the heads-up, Feathers, but I gotta run now”, is all he bleats at him before he turns towards the door to leave the motel room.

“Where are you going?”, the angel inquires and now Dean’s patience is up. “Alright, if you really _have_ to know, here it goes”, Dean announces with an exasperated sigh, “Crowley got his hands on the First Blade and I’m headed out to meet him, so that we can finally take that sonofabitch Lucifer down for good”.

The angel’s eyes widen even further at the news and he looks at the ceiling as if he’s trying to access his memory. He opens and closes his mouth twice before he actually speaks, “ _Cain_ crafted the First Blade to kill his brother Abel. It is said that the blade can kill anything when it’s in the hands of the bearer of-”, it seems to take the angel a moment until the gears in his head click into place, before he looks at Dean’s arm again and finishes his sentence, “…the Mark of Cain”.

“Winner winner chicken dinner”, Dean says in a sarcastically exaggerated tone, “And _that’s_ why I gotta meet Crowley to get my hands on this baby asap. So, if you’ll excuse me”. Dean clears his throat and gestures for the angel to get out of his way. When Castiel doesn’t budge, Dean puts his hand on the angel’s forearm firmly, trying to nudge him out of the way.

Instead of moving, the angel looks at Dean intensely, his bottom lip trembling with anger.

“No.”

Castiel says the word in a loud and firm tone that is probably supposed to end this discussion before it can even start. But Dean is not having any of it. Not this time. He has already wasted way too much time and energy being considerate of the angel’s feelings.

 _Feelings that an angel shouldn’t even have_.

Without giving it any further thought, Dean lets his instincts guide him, as he shoves the angel out of the way with both of his hands. He can’t deny that he’s caught by surprise when the angel staggers backwards and actually even falls to the ground after tripping over the edge of the bed and if the expression on Castiel’s face is any indication, he’s just as surprised by the hunter’s strength as Dean himself is.

Even though there’s a faint feeling of guilt that’s gnawing at the back of his mind, Dean leaves the room without paying the upset looking angel any further attention.

***

When Dean meets Crowley again, he doesn’t expect to find him empty-handed. Yet, there he’s standing, on the parking lot in front of that kooky hippie bar, with no visible cargo whatsoever.

“Where is it?”, Dean asks immediately, skipping any kind of greeting because he needs that painful pulsing in his arm gone like yesterday. “Dean, Dean, Dean”, Crowley says before letting out an overly exaggerated sigh, “What am I gonna do with you? No manners, no patience-“.

Dean interrupts the demon before he can continue, inadvertently confirming Crowley’s statement, “You could just hand me the friggin’ blade, for starters”.

“Patience is a virtue”, Crowley drags every word out as he paces around Dean in slow steps. “Don’t give me that bible crap, Crowley. You said you had the blade, so just give it to me and spare me the friggin’ drama”, Dean bleats at him.

When the silence between them carries on too long for Dean’s liking, he adds a sharp, “ _Now_ ”.

“Okay, I knew that you’re a demanding little _bitch_ ”, Crowley responds and Dean flinches at the nickname, but the demon continues before he can react any further, “But I didn’t think you were _that_ dull”. Dean frowns and continues to stare at Crowley with a blank expression as he waits for an explanation, still too astounded to respond in any way.

“Did you really think I was just gonna _hand_ you the blade on a silver platter? Giving you an instrument that could _kill_ me when we haven’t even found Lucifer? No offense, Dean, but don’t be stupid”, Crowley finally explains and even though Dean understands his reasoning, there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach at the realization that he’ll have to live with that annoying mark on his arm for even longer.

“So how do we find Lucifer?”, Dean demands after a moment of consideration, not wanting to lose any more time than necessary. “I’ve got some of my demons on it already, but you know how it is. If you want something done right-”, Crowley suggests, making a little pause before he continues and waves his hands in the air in front of him, “Blah blah blah”.

Dean raises his eyebrows and nods at the demon, “Alright, so where do we start?”. Better to get this show on the road before they waste even more daylight. The mark on his arm is already pulsing again and Dean feels like it’s time to give it some relief sooner rather than later.

“A little birdie told me that you’re quite the virtuoso in the fine art of torture”, Crowley’s eyes light up mischievously at his remark. Dean has to take a deep breath to process the information that has just been given to him. The images of last night’s nightmare slash hallucination are flashing behind his closed eyelids again and he involuntarily has to think back to his time in Hell with Alastair.

After Castiel had saved him from Hell, Dean had sworn to himself that he’d never pick up a blade to torture again, but in a funny-not-so-funny twist of fate, it was also Castiel who had asked him to pick up torturing again to get information from Alastair. Back then, it had given him a weird sense of satisfaction to get some redemption from the man who had managed to break him in Hell, even though he would never openly admit it.

Dean would never even have thought of taking pride in the fact that he’s good at torture. He had always held himself to high standards to try to be a man that his father would be proud of - a good and honorable man. But right now, these ideals in the back of his mind are fading more and more and the mark on his arm is living off of the anger that’s been raging inside him for a while now, simmering just below the surface, where Dean would always try to push it down as good as he could.

The hunter feels the Mark pulsing again at the prospect of relieving that same anger. When he opens his eyes and lifts his gaze to face Crowley again, he finds the demon looking back at him with an evil grin on his lips, even though Dean hadn’t even said anything yet.

“Meet me there tomorrow, I’ll make sure to bring a few guinea pigs that might have some intel and the necessary instruments”, Crowley announces with a self-satisfied smile on his lips, before he vanishes into thin air again, leaving behind nothing but a small slip of paper and Dean already knows that there’s gonna be an address written on it in Crowley’s scribbly handwriting.

***

There’s a shrill sound that reverberates through the stone walls of the old factory building as Dean lets the angel blade glide along the sensitive skin of the angel’s neck, the blinding white light of his grace glowing brightly through the cut. Dean watches the small rivulet of blood that’s trickling down the length of the blade as he gives his victim a moment to scream in pain and reconsider his choice of not giving them the information that they’re looking for.

“I. Don’t. Know.”, the angel pushes the words out through gritted teeth between his heavy breaths and his body is still shuddering with the pain. By the look of fear in his big blue eyes, Dean is almost sure that the angel is speaking the truth but it doesn’t hurt to be thorough. The angel squeezes his eyes shut, apparently already knowing what’s gonna come next and there’s a stray tear running down his rosy cheek as his body tenses up, a silent plea for mercy falling from his lips.

Dean looks away from the angel’s face and focuses his gaze on the blade again instead, but just when he is about to set the tip of the blade back against the angel’s throat, there are some faint sounds in the distance that seem to be dulled by the thick walls surrounding them. The hunter looks up from his work momentarily, trying to figure out where the noises might be coming from.

The louder and seemingly closer the sounds get, the more obvious it becomes that they are screams. He looks at Crowley with a cocked eyebrow, but the demon just nods at him to continue.

The hunter turns his attention back to the angel that’s tied up to the chair in front of him, but he’s interrupted by yet another shrill sound, followed by a loud bang as the solid metal door to the dungeon flies off its hinges and drops to the floor with a loud metallic clangor, the momentum swirling up the dust in the room.

When Dean turns around, he sees Castiel standing in the doorframe.

***

A pang of guilt hits Castiel, as he sees Dean standing in the middle of the room, his hand wrapped firmly around an angel blade that’s dripping with blood, one of his angelic brothers tied to the chair in front of the hunter. As much as he wishes to ignore all the signs that are making it painfully clear that Dean has been torturing again, he can’t help but blame himself.

After all, it was him who had made Dean torture again after his time in Hell with Alastair. It was his fault that these old, traumatic wounds had been ripped open again and ultimately, it was also Castiel who had paved the way for Dean to stand in the middle of this room now, right in the middle of torturing an innocent angel.

How can he blame Dean for what he’s doing now when it had been Castiel who had set the groundwork for all of this?

His thoughts are interrupted when the man in the dark suit that’s standing next to Dean clears his throat. That must be the demon Crowley that Dean had talked about. “I didn’t know we were expecting company”, he says in a gruff voice, giving Castiel a once over before he turns towards Dean again with an expectant look on his face. “We weren’t”, Dean murmurs back at him in a snappy tone, as he throws Castiel a derogatory glance that feels like venom, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you”, Castiel explains, trying to make his voice sound calm and collected to not set Dean off, but it still comes out a little ragged. There’s a moment of tense silence where their eyes just linger on each other’s. Castiel tries to see through the façade of Dean’s blank expression, but it’s unreadable.

The moment of tension between them is interrupted by Crowley’s cheerful voice and Castiel swallows against the bile that’s rising in the back of his throat, “Oh, so you wanna volunteer? I think we were just about done with this one anyway”. Before it even registers in his brain what Crowley is implying, the demon is ramming an angel blade right through the heart of the angel that Dean had been right in the middle of torturing when Castiel had arrived.

 _Samandriel._ _His name was Samandriel_ , Castiel thinks, as his lips fall open with a silent gasp.

His stomach drops as Samandriel’s body sags back against the chair lifelessly, but what upsets him even more than his brother’s death is to see the entire lack of emotion in Dean’s eyes. Castiel has known the hunter for a while now and he has witnessed him killing demons and other creatures first-hand countless times.

But no matter what kind of monster Dean had killed or how big his satisfaction at getting justice or revenge for the victims had been, there had always been at least a little flinch, that bit of hesitation and pain in Dean’s eyes, whenever he had taken someone’s life or witnessed a murder at someone else’s hands.

Right now, there is nothing. No hint of remorse in his mossy green eyes. Not even a flinch at the demon’s sudden violent gesture.

“So, Castiel, right? I believe we haven’t been introduced”, Crowley remarks as he wipes the blood from his hands with a towel, before offering his hand for Castiel to shake, “I’m Crowley.“ Castiel’s nostrils flare up and he clenches his teeth at the absolute audacity of this demon. How does this abomination even dare to think that Castiel wants to have anything to do with him?

There’s a moment of silence where Crowley looks at the angel expectantly, his hand still held out mid-air, but Castiel just holds the demon’s gaze and refuses to take the hand that’s being offered to him. After a few seconds, Crowley eventually drops his hand with a shrug, as he remarks “No pleasantries then, I see”. The angel tears his gaze away from Crowley and takes a few steps towards Dean instead.

“Dean, what are you doing here?”, Castiel asks the hunter, the stone-cold expression that he had put on in front of Crowley now dropping in favor of a concerned frown. “What’s it look like?”, Dean snaps back at him, “We’re tryin’ to get Lucifer’s location and we think that some of your bros might be able to help us out with that”.

“You...you want to track Lucifer?”, the angel stutters in disbelief, “I thought...I thought you had given up on Sam”. The hunter looks down at his feet for a moment, but even though his face is now hidden from him, the way that Dean is shifting from one foot to another tells Castiel that Dean is a little taken aback by that remark.

“I have”, Dean shrugs it off with a scoff, “Told ya I was gonna kill that sonofabitch”. And there’s that coldness again that makes Castiel’s whole body shudder. That is not the Dean he knows. Dean would _never_ be so entirely unaffected when his brother is concerned.

“Boys, I don’t mean to interrupt your little tête-à-tête, but we’re losing daylight here”, Crowley interjects, tapping his index finger on the watch around his wrist, “Or do you wanna take that seat next after all, Castiel?”. The angel ignores the rude remark and looks back at Dean instead as he tries to reason with him, “Dean, I need you to see what has become of you. This mark...it’s changing you”.

***

“So that’s what this is all about, huh? Is it because I'm stronger now?”, Dean throws back at the angel, as another idea crosses his mind, “Oh... _oh,_ is _that_ it? Are you afraid that you won't be able to keep me under control any longer? Are you afraid of _me_?”. Now that Dean thinks about it, Castiel had definitely looked like Dean’s strength had taken him by surprise. Dean isn’t sure that he’s exactly stronger than the angel, but the Mark certainly seems to have given him some extra juice.

" _Dean_ ", Castiel starts, emphasizing his name in that painfully familiar way that always used to pull at Dean’s heartstrings. But right now, it barely has any effect on the hunter at all. "No… _no_ ”, Dean interrupts him immediately, “You don't get to _Dean_ me. Not anymore”.

Castiel’s expression drops and he opens his mouth to speak, but Dean beats him to it. “You can help us to win this fight or you can fuck the hell off. I’m serious, man. I’m done with your bullshit", the hunter announces angrily. But before Dean can even complete his sentence, there's a flap of wings and Castiel is gone.

"Typical", Dean whispers mockingly through gritted teeth, shaking his head as he paces across the empty room. Crowley follows after him, until he is facing the hunter again. “No love lost between the two of you, huh?", the demon asks, "And I thought-“

“You thought _what_?”, Dean spits back at him as he takes another step towards the demon, now effectively cornering him in. Now that Castiel is gone, it’s all he can do to direct all his pent-up anger at the demon that got him into this mess in the first place.

“That you would shag all of that pent-up tension out of each other’s systems", Crowley elaborates with a mischievous little smile on his lips.

Dean rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. As if it wasn't already annoying enough that Castiel had started to act up like a bratty little child, now even Crowley had to go on his nerves with stupid comments like that.

“There has never been any tension between us”, Dean growls back at him, knowing that his defensiveness gives him away, but he doesn’t have it in him to care about that right now. Crowley slightly raises his eyebrows, a gesture that is obviously intended to show that he doesn't believe a single word that just came out of Dean’s mouth.

The hunter turns around to walk away from Crowley, but the demon follows after him. "Whatever", Dean scoffs, "So, we gonna torture some more of these sons of bitches now to get Lucifer's location or what?"

"That's my boy", Crowley utters, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder, as he leads him back to the table where all the torture instruments are laid out.

“Although I can’t help but think”, Crowley begins and Dean rolls his eyes with a sigh, already dreading to hear what the demon is gonna come up with next. “What?”, he tilts his head at the demon, his eyebrows raised in an expression of impatient anticipation. “You know, maybe we should’ve asked your winged boyfriend after all. He seems like someone who might know something”.

That’s it.

Dean can’t hold his anger back any longer. He grabs a fistful of Crowley’s shirt and pushes him backwards until the backs of his thighs hit the table behind him, sending some of the torturing instruments scattering across the floor. “Alright, I want you to listen closely now, _pal_ ”, Dean threatens him, his eyes gleaming with fury. “First of all, he’s not my _boyfriend_.”, he emphasizes the last word with so much venom as if it’s an insult, “Second of all, Castiel is off bounds”.

His words are sharp and Dean is trying to make it painfully clear that Crowley better keeps out of his affairs. But apparently, the impertinent as<yshole can’t leave well enough alone. “For claiming that you don’t care about him, you’re oddly protective of the guy”, Crowley remarks with a snarky smile on his face.

Before Dean puts himself into even more of a defensive position, he decides to end this argument once and for all. “And third of all”, he begins as his grip on Crowley’s shirt tightens, “It’s none of your goddamn business. Are we clear?”. The last words are barely a hiss through his gritted teeth and the cautious look on Crowley’s face tells Dean that this discussion is over, even before Crowley agrees with a nod.

The hunter releases his grip on the demon’s shirt and picks up an angel blade from the table next to Crowley, restlessly balancing it in his hand as he paces across the room.

***

 _god of all, i travel seeking knowledge  
_ _you scattered it like ashes on the air  
_ _at the dawn your children call for answers  
_ _forsaken in a wilderness to roam  
_ _the god of war paraded like a saviour  
_ _the god of love in exile can't return_

Castiel arrives at the nearby park with a flap of his wings. He sits down on a bench next to the children’s playground as a cool breeze rustles through the trees. He takes a deep breath and looks around himself. Everything about this park used to be so peaceful and Castiel had always enjoyed to see families coming together to rejoice and fill the place with life and laughter. Watching humanity had always been one of his favorite pastimes and just sitting here and observing them had always managed to give him a sense of calmness.

But now, the monkey bars that used to be occupied by happy children are empty and coated with dust, the air that was once filled with the warmth of children’s laughter now silent and cold.

That couldn’t have been part of God’s great plan.

_God._

Where was God in all of this? Why would he let something like this happen to his beloved planet Earth and to humanity, the most beautiful of his creations? And how was it even possible that his prophecy – the apocalypse - hadn’t been fulfilled in the first place?

Castiel has so many unanswered questions, so many worries and doubts that were getting stronger and stronger the longer he walked among the Earth. The angel had been on this planet for so long and he had witnessed it all: The evolution of humankind, the rise and fall of civilizations, the creation and destruction of empires, all the big wars and revolutions. Some of these things had seemed unnecessarily cruel or questionable even, but Castiel had always trusted God’s process. He had always had faith and trusted that God knew exactly what he was doing.

That was until he had laid his hand on Dean in Hell.

_Dean._

Thinking of the hunter unleashes a plethora of feelings inside Castiel. He can still vividly recall every detail from the day he saved Dean from the dark pits of Hell. He remembers the smell of acid stinging in his eyes, the blazing heat of the hellfire, the taste of iron and sulfur in the thick air and the deafening sounds of a million tortured souls that were screaming in agony. And despite all of that anguish that had been surrounding Dean there, his soul had still been shining more brightly than anything else that Castiel had ever laid his eyes on.

The hunter had taught him so much about human values. About love and family. Courage and free will. Honesty. _Trust._

Castiel is hit by a sudden sense of guilt.

As much as he hates it, Castiel had to report back to Heaven about the fact that Dean is bearing the Mark of Cain now. It was only a matter of time until the angels would have found out by themselves and Castiel didn’t want to let that happen.

Because if the angels had found out about this by anyone other than him, Heaven would have lost all trust in Castiel, since it was his mission to keep an eye on Dean. If he hadn’t told them, they maybe even would have killed him. But whatever they would have done, he knew that Dean wouldn’t have stood a chance against their power.

And still, he can’t shake the remorse that he feels for going behind his best friend’s back like that. If only feelings weren’t so complicated.

_Feelings._

For a moment Castiel allows himself to think how much easier it was when he didn’t feel the burden of his emotions weighing him down all the time. He doesn’t know when exactly it had happened, but at some point, the angel had gone from understanding human feelings to experiencing them himself. It hadn’t been a conscious decision as much as it was something that wormed its way into his mind the more time he spent on Earth. The more time he spent with the Winchesters specifically.

These feelings are also what’s keeping him from being at ease in the current situation. The order he had gotten when he had reported back to Raphael is weighing heavily on his heart and the archangel’s words are still playing on repeat on Castiel’s mind.

There’s a tiny part of Castiel that knows that the other angels might be right, but he tries to silence that part of his brain with all the power that he has left in him. He can’t let himself think about it, not when there’s even the tiniest spark of hope. And yet, the echo of Raphael’s words in his mind is deafening and overpowering.

_“We can’t afford any loose threads, Castiel. We’ve already lost one Winchester to the dark side and I don’t plan to lose the other one too.”_

Castiel had gotten a direct order to kill Dean.

_the line, the line is broken_ _  
the path behind has vanished in the sand  
to fires that burn on the horizon  
to eternity, to fate, until the end_


	7. the intentions of a saint with demons at your side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, nightmares, trauma, hints at alcoholism, cursing, (non-permanent) character death.
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – Immersed
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_laid low, evading capture  
a lifetime on the run  
don't know the day when i last saw the sun  
the intentions of a saint with demons at your side  
a prophet, like a killer on the run_

***

It’s been days of this and they still haven’t gotten any closer to finding Lucifer. None of the angels that they’ve tortured so far could give them any hint at where the sonofabitch was hiding out and Dean was slowly but surely running out of patience. Torturing all these winged assholes might have been kind of satisfying in the beginning, but it didn’t exactly make things easier that the mark on Dean’s arm was vigorously pulsing whenever he traced his blade over the skin of one of his victims as he tried to get some answers out of them. In these moments, his blood was pulsing and it was like the Mark was screaming at him to kill. Kill. _Kill._

His bloodlust was getting stronger by the day and at some point, even killing the angels after another round of fruitless interrogation didn’t exactly satisfy the desire that was building in the pit of Dean’s stomach anymore.

Dean sighs as he wipes the blood off the blade again before he carelessly throws it back on the table with a loud clank. “ _Careful_ , Dean”, Crowley reprimands him, but Dean can’t find it in his heart to care. If the numbness that he had felt up until a few weeks ago had been bad, feeling like this was much worse. It’s like Dean doesn’t even care for anything at all anymore. Not for food, not for his car…hell, even sex with random pretty girls didn’t do a damn thing for him anymore.

The only thing that he still feels is rage. _Anger_.

One day, just when Dean is about ready to give up on his hope that they will ever find Lucifer, Crowley steps out of his makeshift torture dungeon, his hands almost completely drenched with blood, but he looks as smug as a pig in shit.

Dean looks over Crowley’s shoulder to see the angel he had been torturing hanging limp in the chair, completely covered in blood and with various screws sticking out of his head. He had never fully understood what Crowley did with these screws and how exactly he managed to worm his way into the angels’ brains, but he would be lying if he said that it didn’t weird him the fuck out.

But, the cringeyness of it all aside, it looked like Crowley had finally made one of the angels sing and that’s a hell of a lot of progress in Dean’s book.

“So, you got anythin’?”, Dean asks nonchalantly as he nods at the demon.

“Indeed”, Crowley answers, his eyebrows quirking up with a mischievous smile, “Go and get as much rest as you can. We’ve got a date with the devil tomorrow”.

The prospect of finally facing Lucifer makes Dean feel so restless that he can barely sleep at all that night. He’s been lying awake for almost four hours now, his mind spinning with a mix of fear and nervous anticipation. He hadn’t seen his brother in almost two years now and the idea of facing him again creeps him out to say the least.

The last time he had seen Sam, his brother had already been possessed by Lucifer and the flashing images of that encounter are still haunting Dean in his nightmares. He’s scared shitless to face him again, because even though he will be looking at his brother’s face, it won’t be Sam that he’ll be talking to. Dean still isn’t sure if he has it in him to kill his own brother, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that Lucifer had probably already gotten rid of Sam for good.

After all, there is still this little bit of hope, that tiny chance that Sam might still be alive somewhere in there. And the fear that he might be risking the chance of actually killing however tiny a piece of Sam is still left inside scares him more than the fact that he’ll be facing one of the most dangerous creatures currently walking the Earth.

The pulsing in his arm reminds him that he’s not the only one that’s feeling restless tonight. Ever since it had been clear that they were gonna face Lucifer the next day, the Mark of Cain had made its presence known more than ever. It feels like this mark has a consciousness of its own and the sharp sting that’s running through Dean’s veins right now seems to be the Mark’s way of expressing its happy anticipation to finally be reconnected with the First Blade again.

Dean is downright shaken by the effect that these thoughts have on his body. It feels like he doesn’t have any control over the Mark at all and the possibilities that this implies worry Dean more than he cares to admit.

Ever since he got the Mark of Cain, it felt like Dean was losing more and more of his control over himself; all that anger that he felt inside of him clouding his judgement and his ability to form clear thoughts. When he thinks about facing Lucifer - the creature that he hates most in this world right now - Dean doesn’t trust himself to pull back even if it was the reasonable thing to do.

The hunter buries his face in his hands as he tries to take a deep breath to clear his mind. If he doesn’t get any sleep soon, he’s gonna be so knackered tomorrow that he won’t even get much of a chance to worry about Lucifer and the Mark of Cain before he’s a dead man.

Eventually, he does manage to fall asleep though, having the same old nightmare as every night.

***

When he wakes up the next morning, startled awake by his alarm, Dean feels like he hasn’t slept at all. There’s barely any light falling through the curtains of the motel room and the low grumbling sounds in the distance announce the approaching of a thunderstorm.

_Oh, what a day to face the devil._

Dean decides not to abuse the snooze function of his phone in favor of taking a nice, long shower. God knows what this day is gonna bring, so he isn’t gonna pass up the chance of some hot comfort. If this is gonna be his last shower, he might as well make it a good one.

Weirdly enough, thinking of last chances also makes Dean’s mind wander to Castiel again. He thinks back to the time the angel set out to confront the archangel Raphael and thought that it might be a suicide mission. The corners of his lips pull up into a soft smile as Dean wallows in the nostalgia of making Castiel’s supposedly last night on Earth a memorable one by taking him to a brothel. That plan hadn’t turned out quite like Dean had thought it would, but he still remembers that night fondly, most of all, the way they were both laughing together carelessly, like they had all the time in the world.

For a moment, he plays with the thought of calling Castiel. The constant anger that he has felt because of the Mark recently hasn’t given him much time and space for his other emotions, but the general end time vibe of this day makes him see things in a slightly different light. For the first time in days, Dean feels like the fog of anger on his mind has been lifted to make way for some good old-fashioned guilt and self-loathing. Thinking about how he has put Castiel on the sidelines recently suddenly has Dean feeling remorse for not letting the angel be a part of his life or accepting his help to get him through this shitty situation.

 _Fuck._ Where are these feelings even coming from? And why does Dean have them _now_ that it’s too late to turn back anyway?

He knew right from the start that going after Lucifer would pretty much be a suicide mission and he had been okay with that. He still is. But now that he thinks about Castiel and his good memories with him, doubts start worming their way into his mind.

Although Castiel was the last person he had wanted to see recently, Dean somehow can’t shake the feeling that if he was to die today, he would also want Castiel to be the last person that he sees.

With a sigh, Dean pushes these thoughts aside and steps into the shower, hoping that it will clear his mind a little. Now is not the time for that feelings bullshit. He can’t have his nostalgia clouding his judgement now, because he needs to be focused and prepared for the task at hand, ready to strike at any second.

***

There’s a knock on Dean’s door at 8 o’ clock sharp. The freshly showered hunter opens it and steps outside, his duffle bag hanging heavily from his shoulder.

“Good morning, sunshine”, Crowley greets him in an amused voice that Dean absolutely isn’t in the mood for at this time of day before he’s even had his first coffee, “Ready to kill the devil?”.

Dean scoffs and walks past Crowley, slightly nudging him away with his heavy bag. “Rude”, Crowley huffs, more to himself than to Dean, before he follows after him. “You got the blade?”, Dean grunts at the demon without turning his head to look at him, skipping any other form of greeting as he gets in the driver’s seat of the Impala.

“No, but that’s gonna be our first stop”, Crowley announces as he gets into the passenger seat and begins to babble directions to Dean as he starts the engine.

***

They drive in silence and somehow, Dean doesn’t even feel in the mood for any of his favorite mixtapes. Instead, the radio is playing some semi-new pop music as a background noise. Crowley had insisted that they keep the radio on, in case there were some news of omens that could be hints of Lucifer changing his location. But so far, the only news that Dean has gotten is that all this new age pop music is the absolute worst.

After a relatively short drive, they pull up at the parking lot of the location that Crowley had navigated them to. Dean looks around in disbelief for a moment before he faces Crowley again. “Seriously?”

“What?”, Crowley blurts back at him.

“Well, after this baby had been hidden at the bottom of a fucking ocean for centuries, I thought you’d hide it somewhere safer, you know?”, Dean grouses as he shakes his head. Knowing Crowley, he certainly had expected him to stash the Blade away at some weird ass hiding place – but the parking lot of a place called _The Devil’s Kitchen_?

“Have you ever heard of hiding something in plain sight?”, Crowley lectures him as if Dean was a friggin child, “Nobody would come looking for it here“. Dean shrugs and watches as Crowley gets out of the car. He returns about two minutes later with a small box in his hand. The throbbing in Dean’s arm gets stronger the closer the demon gets back to the car.

When Crowley opens the door to get back into the passenger seat, Dean quickly demands that he puts the box in the trunk instead. The demon gives him a confused look but does as he says.

***

Dean feels his pulse quicken when they finally drive by the house that, according to Crowley, is their final destination.

This is it. This is the safe house where Lucifer has been hiding out. It looks completely inconspicuous: There’s a white picket fence around the perfectly trimmed green front lawn, some red roses growing alongside the little path that leads to the storybook house that just screams domesticity. If it wasn’t for the pulsing in his arm and the plans that lead them here, Dean would almost find it peaceful.

The hunter decides to drive a little further down the street to park the car there. No need to make Lucifer aware of their presence any earlier than necessary. He and Crowley both get out of the car in silence. Once Dean reaches the trunk of the Impala, the thumping in his arm gets almost unbearable and it feels like he can only focus on this one thing that draws him towards itself like a magnet: The little box that contains the First Blade.

It’s like Dean can feel the energy that’s surging from that box and he reaches out to grab it when Crowley immediately interrupts him. “Uh-uh-uh”, the demon exclaims as he pushes Dean’s hands away from the box, “This blade is very powerful, Dean. I need you to focus before you take it and go all psycho killer, okay?”.

Dean scoffs impatiently, but he tries to take a deep breath and then another, not only for the demon’s sake, but also in a desperate attempt to calm himself down a little. “Satisfied?”, he asks in an annoyed tone that’s accompanied by a raise of his eyebrows. Crowley sighs, but eventually gives in and opens the box for him. “Just try not to kill me, alright?”, is the last thing he says as he offers the First Blade to Dean.

Once Dean touches the First Blade, it’s like this strong and feral power is surging through him. He can basically feel the connection between the Mark and the Blade that shakes him to his core and, weirdly enough, he finally feels whole again. He closes his eyes and forces himself to take another deep breath to not lose his focus. When he opens his eyes again, the power that’s running through his veins is almost physically pulling him towards the house and he follows his urge, feeling almost like a robot. Crowley follows beside him and if he’s still a bit wary about Dean and the blade, he doesn’t say anything about it.

The door to the house is ajar, so Dean carefully pushes it open, trying to be as quiet as possible. His plan fails miserably when the door creaks open with a loud squeaking sound. “So much for the element of surprise”, Crowley hisses at him. Dean rolls his eyes at him and takes a deep breath as he checks his surroundings, his hand firmly clasped around the handle of the First Blade. His hand is shaking with the nervous energy and the Mark’s sheer lust for blood.

_Kill. Kill. Kill._

“Dean! Crowley! What a pleasant surprise!”, a shrill voice from the adjacent room tears Dean out of his thoughts before he can even take another step, “Come on in!“.

The voice doesn’t sound like Sam at all, but when Dean steps over the threshold of the room that it came from, he can see that it’s definitely coming out of his brother’s mouth. The hunter is stopped dead in his tracks once he looks into his brother’s eyes for the first time in years. He hasn’t changed a single bit since the last time he saw him. The only thing that’s definitely different is the way Sam’s face is pulled into a weird grimace that doesn’t look like his brother at all anymore. It’s the grimace that has haunted Dean in his nightmares every night ever since Sam had let Lucifer in, but if Dean had thought that his bad dreams would have prepared him for this, he would have been dead wrong.

The white suit that Lucifer is wearing triggers yet another memory on Dean’s mind. He’s painfully reminded of the dream that this sonofabitch Zachariah had let him see in order to convince him to say ‘Yes’ to Michael a few years ago. The hunter shudders as he remembers the details of this nightmare, but instead of holding him back, they make him all the angrier and even more eager to finally get rid of this winged asshole for good.

Crowley reluctantly steps into the room after Dean, looking less than pleased that they had been caught so early on. It’s not what they had planned, but at least they weren’t dead yet.

“So, fellas, what can I do for you on this fine day?”, Lucifer asks with his head tilted in a comical gesture. Dean clenches his teeth and his whole body tightens with the anger that he feels towards the archangel. “You can give up or we can do this the hard way”, the hunter scoffs at him, as he flicks his wrist to present the First Blade.

“Oooh, I see you got an update, Deano”, Lucifer fakes a scared expression, “Very impressive, that little toothpick of yours. I’d almost be afraid of it if I didn’t know that the only person that can hurt me with it is Cain.”

“Well, Cain sends his regards”, Dean’s lips pull up with a cocky smirk as he pushes the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal the Mark of Cain, “So if you wanna reconsider-”

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you’re all pent up! Are you even sure that you can handle that much power?”

Dean answers by taking a few determined steps in Lucifer’s direction, his hand clenched around the First Blade as he approaches the devil. With an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, Lucifer swats his hand through the air in Dean’s direction and the hunter is pushed against the wall by his angelic force.

“You really thought it would be this easy, Deano? You’re insulting me!”

Dean struggles against the force that’s holding him back, but he’s not strong enough to break through the spell. “Such a pity, brother”, Lucifer sneers, “We could have been so good together.”

“I am _not_ your brother!”, Dean protests as he squints his eyes in an agonized expression to will back the pain that’s pulsating through his arm. “Oh, Dean. Just look at you”, Lucifer sighs in feigned pity, “You never would have let an angel possess you…yet here you are, working with a demon and on the verge of becoming one yourself.”

Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head at the remark, but he still shoots Crowley a questioning glance. He just shrugs at Dean and if he’s surprised at Lucifer’s words at all, he sure as hell doesn’t let it show. The hunter tries to move his hands against the restraint of Lucifer’s spell in order to send Crowley a sign to do _something_. That sonofabitch has been pretty much just standing there uselessly ever since they arrived here and it’s slowly beginning to bother Dean.

What if Lucifer was right? What if Crowley had just messed with him and Dean was too blind to see it through all the anger that he constantly felt? Looking back at his history, working with a demon had never turned out well, so what the hell made him believe that it was suddenly a good idea now? And what was he thinking when he agreed to come here today with just that bloody blade in his hand, not even knowing whether it would work?

Despite the seething rage in his veins, doubts are starting to push their way into Dean’s mind. How fucking desperate had he been to believe Crowley? And much worse, what the hell had happened to him that made him agree to take on that stupid mark, without even thinking about it twice? And if that in itself wasn’t bad enough, he could feel how the mark on his arm was fueling his anger, trying to push him even further towards that dark path. _Hell_ , right now, all he can think about is jabbing that knife through Lucifer’s… _Sam’s_ heart and it’s so hard to not just give in to that urge right now.

“This isn’t you, Sammy”, Dean hisses through his teeth in a shaky voice, in the hopes of being able to reach out to his brother. His stomach drops when Lucifer just laughs at him manically.

“Oh _finally_ , the good old ‘This isn’t you’ speech! I had already been waiting for that classic broment, you know?”, Lucifer exclaims as he delightedly claps his hands together and Dean can only scoff back at him with a mix of disgust and annoyance.

“Aw come on, Dean. Don’t tell me that you really thought that a few sweet words would wake your little bro up”, Lucifer mocks him and pulls his bottom lip down into a frowny face, “I have Sam locked away in a dream. He’s so far gone that he won’t even hear you”.

Lucifer looks as smug as a pig in shit but apart from the message behind his words, there is something else that has caught Dean’s attention. Of course, he isn’t going to point it out now, but it didn’t go past him how Lucifer mentioned that Sam was _locked away in a dream_. He probably wasn’t even conscious or had any power left to resist, but if Lucifer has him locked away, that must mean that his brother is at least still alive. There’s a sense of relief that floods through Dean momentarily, but he can’t dwell on it for too long or Lucifer will become suspicious.

“You sonofabitch”, Dean grumbles at him, trying to act like he didn’t notice that Lucifer had just admitted that Sam is still alive. Lucifer seems to be distracted by something though, because instead of answering, the devil tilts his head slightly as if he is trying to listen for something. Barely a moment later, his face lights up like a kid’s on Christmas day “My my, this turns out to be quite the family reunion today.”

Dean looks at him in confusion, but as he turns his head to the side slightly, he sees Castiel standing in the doorframe and his stomach drops. After his memories with the angel had caught Dean by surprise this morning, he had tried his damnedest to keep his mind off of him in order to be able to focus. As much as he had wished to see Castiel one more time, it had been more of a foolish wish, because right now certainly wasn’t the right time for that.

Once again, Lucifer tears Dean from his thoughts. “Castiel, _brother_ …still trying to keep the spirit of free will alive, aren’t you?”

Castiel knits his eyebrows and his upper lip trembles with anger. “I am _not_ your brother.”

“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport, Cassie. We’re all family.”

Dean can basically sense the angel’s anger across the room and the way Lucifer teases Castiel does nothing to tame his own rage either. “What are you doing here?”, he asks Castiel with an accusing expression on his face, “I told you to stay out of this”.

“I couldn’t just let you die on this _foolish_ suicide mission, now could I?”, the angel snaps back at him immediately and there’s not even a hint of the usual understanding expression visible on his face. If he’s so angry at Dean, why the hell did he show up here anyway?

“I wasn’t going to”, Dean scoffs, rolling his eyes at the angel.

“Aw that’s cute!”, Lucifer interrupts them and it earns him angry glances from both of them, “Your bickering has reached a whole new level. I’m sure Sam would find it very amusing”. The mention of his brother has bile rising up in Dean’s throat and he flexes his muscles again to try and fight against Lucifer’s spell. Castiel tilts his head as Dean groans, beads of sweat forming on his forehead from the exertion.

The angel throws Dean a meaningful look before he inconspicuously tenses his fingers and twists them slightly and Dean can feel the way the spell is weakened immediately. The hunter tries not to move too much yet in order to not make Lucifer aware of the fact that he can move again, even though he can still feel a bit of resistance. Apparently Castiel’s powers aren’t strong enough to override Lucifer’s spell completely, but at least Dean is able to move a bit more freely again.

Dean flinches at the devil’s loud voice when he speaks again, “So, are we complete now or are we expecting any other special guests?”

Surprisingly enough, Crowley seems to finally have found his voice again. “Let’s get this party started”, is all the warning that they all get before Crowley snaps his fingers. A warm blast of wind whips through the room and it’s only when Dean hears the awfully loud barking sounds that he realizes that Crowley has just unleashed a couple of hellhounds on Lucifer. For a moment, Dean is impressed by the demon’s quick wit, but it is quickly destroyed again when he hears Lucifer chuckling. “Aw, that’s cute. You brought the puppies!”

Dean clenches his jaw and gives Crowley his best ‘ _Seriously?’_ expression. Lucifer had spent enough time in hell to get control over those bloodhungry hellhounds and even though they still managed to scare the living crap out of Dean, all this must be looking like nothing more than a cheap party trick to the friggin’ devil himself. Crowley has a strained expression on his face and slightly nods his head at the hunter and slowly, it begins to dawn on Dean that Crowley was just using the hellhounds as a diversion.

As soon as Dean picks up on the demon’s hint, he grabs the First Blade again and runs towards Lucifer, who is currently facing away from him. He is just about to haul off when the devil suddenly turns around and before Dean knows it, Lucifer’s fingers are wrapped around his throat. “Not bad, Deano! You caught me by surprise there for a second. But enough with the games!”

Lucifer emphasizes his statement by tightening the grip around Dean’s neck, making it hard for Dean to breathe. “Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?”, Lucifer asks him with a threatening glint in his eyes. Dean’s breath hitches in his throat as he looks into his brother’s hazel eyes. He still remembers these puppy eyes that had always helped Sam to earn people’s trust and even gave him a chance with one or another girl back then. But now, all of that innocence and purity was gone, replaced by pure evil. It makes Dean’s blood boil to see what Lucifer has done to his little brother and he has to remind himself to take as much of a breath as he still can with Lucifer’s hand choking him.

He struggles against the devil’s hold with a groan, his teeth clenched and the Mark vigorously pulsing on his arm as Lucifer forces the First Blade from his hand. “Can’t you see what’s become of you, Dean? I mean look at you…all that anger.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees how Castiel advances Lucifer, his expression sour and his upper lip trembling. If the situation wasn’t all sorts of fucked up right now, he’d be mildly aroused by how fucking badass the angel looks. Dean gasps for air when Lucifer’s tight grip on his throat is momentarily released a little, as the devil directs his gaze towards Castiel. “What, Cassie? You wanna tell me that you haven’t noticed it too? That this righteous man that you’ve fallen so in love with is barely a shadow of the man he used to be?”

Dean stumbles backwards when Lucifer is violently forced to let go of the hold that he has on the hunter. Castiel brutally shoves the devil away, but even though he does begin to tumble slightly, it doesn’t seem to affect him all that much.

“This is _pathetic_ , brother. I mean…look at him, he’s barely still a man at all”, Lucifer tries to argue with Castiel, but instead of calming him down, it seems to make him all the angrier. The accusation cuts through Dean’s heart like a knife and it kickstarts his defensive mode. Dean makes a low growling sound in the back of his throat as he balls his hands into fists and starts to punch Lucifer. He hits the devils jaw with as much force as he can but it barely seems to bother him at all. It makes Dean all the angrier and he lets out his frustration by starting to aimlessly punch and kick at the devil, trying to slow him down at least until he can get his hands back on the First Blade, that’s still lying abandoned on the floor behind him.

“Look at that outrage. That anger. Take away that...that little _soul_ ”, Lucifer looks disgusted as he says that last word, “That tiny last bit of humanity that’s still inside you. And what’s left then?”

The hunter groans and punches him again but his resistance is futile.

“I know you don’t wanna hear it, Deano, but without that poor excuse of a soul, that teeny tiny spark of humanity, you’re not the tiniest bit different from those creatures that you’re hunting.”

“Dean, _no!_ Don’t listen to him”, Castiel yells at him, his gaze so fucking menacing that it makes Dean shiver. He had seen Castiel fight quite a few times already, but he doesn’t remember ever seeing him this angry.

“Oh Cassie, I always knew that you were quite the little rebel”, Lucifer mocks the angel, “Maybe we’re not all that different after all.”

“Don’t”, Castiel growls back sharply and his voice sounds like roaring thunder.

“Aw, come on. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I know that you really wanna think that this whole free will thing is gonna work out for you...but I didn’t know that you were in so much in denial that you would actually _believe_ that bullshit”.

The hunter snarls at Lucifer, trying to get him away from Castiel. This is Dean’s brother that this asshole is possessing, so it’s his job to deal with the situation. There’s a short moment where Dean thinks that Castiel has already suffered through enough for Dean and it stings in his heart, but that guilt is quickly turned into rage again, as the hunter advances Lucifer one more time.

“Okay Dean, I’ll give you one last chance. You know, because we’re family”, Lucifer says unnerved as he turns around to face Dean.

“We’re _not_ family”, Dean gripes back at him.

“Call it whatever you want, the fact remains that I’m connected to your brother. So, unless you wanna lose good old Sammy, grab your two boy toys and leave.”

Dean doesn’t even consider it for a moment before he takes big assertive steps to close the distance between him and the devil. “Dean”, Castiel yells pointedly and the hunter turns around to catch the First Blade that the angel throws towards him.

From that moment onwards, it all fades into a blur.

Once Dean clasps his hand around the First Blade again, the anger that’s boiling in his blood gets almost overpowering, the chanting of _Kill. Kill. Kill._ so loud in his mind that it even drowns out his pulse that’s thrumming in his ears. He hauls off to stab Lucifer, but just when he wants to strike, there’s a sharp pain in his chest. He can faintly hear a shrill scream of “No!” and quickly approaching footsteps, both of which must be coming from Castiel as Dean is violently pushed against the wall behind him. Dean is panting for air, but somehow his lungs don’t want to comply.

“Sorry, Dean. I tried to explain it to you in the nicest way possible, but if you don’t wanna listen...see for yourself”, Lucifer says and when the pain in his chest gets infinitely worse, Dean looks down to see how Lucifer turns the First Blade around in his chest. There’s a lot of blood and a ringing in his ears as his vision slowly turns into a blur.

“You sonofabitch”, Dean growls with the last bit of air that’s left in his lungs before his lifeless body sags to the ground.


	8. no pain remains, no feeling - eternity awaits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: (non-permanent) character death, nightmares, mourning, use of alcohol, cursing, explicit sexual content/NSFW.
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – Beloved  
> \- VNV Nation - Retaliate
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_it's so quiet i can hear  
my thoughts touching every second  
that i spent waiting for you  
circumstances afford me  
no second chance to tell you  
how much i've missed you_

The stubble on the hunter’s jawline prickles beneath Castiel’s palm as he gently glides his thumb over the sallow skin of Dean’s cheek, the vivid flush that used to shine through his freckled skin faded into a dull and lifeless color. His other hand is resting on the hunter’s motionless chest, where the blood has already dried into a crust on the fabric of his olive-green shirt. The angel looks at the rigid expression on Dean’s face with misty eyes from where he’s hunkered down next to his cold and lifeless body.

Lucifer had long been gone, although Castiel couldn’t even say how much time had passed since he had disappeared. It’s like the entire concept of time has somehow lost all meaning for him and everything that has happened in what couldn’t have been much more than an hour or two feels like a vague and unrealistic blur. Like a nightmare that he should wake up from at any second now.

Castiel takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, as he allows his warm tears to flow down his face, his mind feeling completely empty except for one thought:

_Dean._

Behind his closed eyelids, the angel can still see Dean’s bright smile as clear as day. It’s that bright sunshine smile that he hadn’t seen in a while now and if he really focuses on it, it’s almost like he can hear Dean’s intoxicating laughter again.

He thinks back to his fondest memories with Dean; to all these little moments where they had been free to just be themselves. The times when Dean had shown him all the good things in life that made all the pain that they were going through on a daily basis more than worth it. Some of these things, Castiel had never really been able to fully understand, like Dean’s unending love for pie. To Castiel, eating food wasn’t a pleasant experience, since he didn’t taste the combination of its ingredients, but rather the molecules that the dish was made from. But even seeing Dean enjoying something so thoroughly had never failed to make a warm feeling spread through Castiel’s chest.

The sound of approaching footsteps tears Castiel out of his reverie for a moment. He hadn’t even realized that Crowley was still there, so he’s a bit startled when the demon clears his throat behind him to make the angel aware of his presence.

“My deepest condolences”, Crowley mutters and Castiel looks up at him, his eyes still blurry with tears. The demon’s expression looks blank and if he is affected at all by what had happened, he does a really good job at not letting it show.

Castiel has to bite his tongue to keep his emotions at bay. How dare this demon, this heartless and evil miscreant, to feign his sympathy like that? After everything he had made Dean do, he had no right to act like he cares and Castiel wouldn’t let him apologize for the things he had done even if he tried.

The angel exhales a shaky breath as he looks back at Crowley with narrowed eyes. His sour expression seems to get his message across quite well, because the demon vanishes before Castiel can even open his mouth to demand it.

Once the demon is gone, Castiel lets out a heavy sigh. He reaches out his hand and softly pulls Dean’s eyelids down over the fixed stare of the hunter’s green eyes with a shaky hand. He swallows his sob and a deep shudder runs through his body as he feels his eyes stinging with tears again.

Castiel had never thought that it would end like this. That he would lose his best friend so suddenly and without a warning. He had never doubted that Dean would die in a fight, because the hunter had always been a martyr, continuously putting his life at risk for the greater good. But after all the pain and suffering that Dean had recently endured, Castiel had somehow begun to hold on to the foolish belief that Dean was so strong that he could withstand everything.

Now he sees how wrong he had been. After all, Dean is... _was_ only human. The Mark of Cain had undoubtedly made him physically stronger, but even that strength had been nothing compared to Lucifer’s angelic powers. The devil had had no difficulties at all to turn the First Blade around on Dean in a moment of weakness where the hunter’s anger had clouded his judgement. Castiel realizes again how fragile humans are. That’s why God had wanted the angels to protect them in the first place.

It had been Castiel’s _mission_ to protect _Dean_ and he had failed.

He doesn’t know when it happens, but at some point, his tears just stop. It’s not like Castiel has stopped grieving or like he has made a conscious decision to stop crying. He’s just feeling a bone-deep tiredness and for a moment, he wonders if he has just run out of tears to cry. His eyes are still burning and his throat feels painfully dry, but apart from that he feels…he doesn’t feel much of anything really. It’s like there’s a big black hole in the place where his soul used to be and he just feels _empty_.

When he opens his eyes again and tries to stand up, Castiel is painfully aware of the weight of his own body. Being an angel, moving his vessel from one place to another had never felt like a burden he had been aware of before. But right now, his bones feel heavy with every move that he makes, so it takes him a moment before he can conjure the strength to lift the hunter’s limp body up from the ground.

***

_my beloved, do you know  
when the warm wind comes again  
another year will start to pass  
and please don't ask me why i'm here  
something deeper brought me  
than a need to remember_

Castiel brings Dean’s dead body back to the motel room that he had been staying at recently. It doesn’t seem to make much sense to bring him there, but he doesn’t know what else to do. The pain in his chest still feels so acute and the heavy guilt on his mind keeps him from thinking straight. The angel tenderly places Dean’s body on top of the bed before he just slumps down on the chair next to him.

The vantage point from this chair has gotten so familiar to Castiel in the past few months that it almost feels like it’s just another regular day in their lives. For a moment, Castiel allows himself to think back to the times he had been sitting here, waiting for Dean to return from one of his hunts or watching him sleep until he woke up again in the morning.

He remembers the rising and falling of the hunter’s chest and the soft and calming sound of his breath. Dean had always looked so peaceful when he slept, although he had recently been twitching in his sleep a lot more than usual, probably caused by the nightmares that had been haunting him ever since he had lost his brother to Lucifer.

When Castiel looks at Dean now, his mind is trying to fill in the blanks. It paints that rosy color back onto the hunter’s cheeks and brings Dean’s face back to life, making his eyelids flutter slightly before they reveal his beautiful green eyes, framed by his long dark eyelashes. Castiel remembers how Dean always used to wake up with a bit of a start when he saw the angel sitting on the chair next to him and how he had always told him that it was creepy to watch him sleep like that, but never without a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Castiel smiles fondly at the memory, but the nostalgia also causes his eyes to well up with tears again. He still can’t believe that he would never get to have these little moments with Dean again. That he would never see the hope in his mossy green eyes, never hear his intoxicating laughter, smell his musk or feel his touch again. A sob falls from his lips and when he looks down at his hands, he realizes that they are trembling.

He would never get another chance to fight at Dean’s side again, to heal his wounds after a hunt or to celebrate his victories with him.

Dean is gone and it feels like he has taken a vital part of Castiel’s life with him. He doesn’t know how he is supposed to go on without the hunter by his side, the purpose of his life all but ripped away from him.

_we were once young and blessed with wings  
no heights could keep us from their reach  
no sacred place we did not soar  
still greater things burned within us  
i don't regret the choices that i've made  
i know you feel the same_

But Castiel doesn’t just feel sadness. There’s a surprising amount of anger that’s coiling deep in his stomach and it makes him feel like he’s about to throw up.

He hates how this stupid mark had impacted Dean. He hates that Crowley had pushed Dean onto a dark path that he couldn’t recover from. But most of all, Castiel hates himself for not being able to do anything to save Dean.

He had failed him once again, only that this time, it was permanent and there was no way to clean up his mess.

It was no exaggeration that Dean had been the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life. An angel’s lifespan might be long, but Castiel feels like he only really started living when he had met the Winchesters. They had taught him so much about human values and feelings, about family and love, courage and free will.

Since he had met these two hunters, his view of the world had shifted so profoundly that it felt like he had been walking the Earth blindly in the eons before that. And now that he had gotten so used to this new and fulfilled life with Dean, it was impossible to imagine a life without him.

In his heart, Castiel knows that the knowledge that the Winchesters had shared with him and the happy memories that he had made with Dean were something that could never be taken away from him until the day he died.

But despite that knowledge, Castiel feels like there’s a deep, black emptiness in his soul that he will never be able to fill again.

_moments lost, though time remains  
i am so proud of what we were  
no pain remains, no feeling  
eternity awaits_

***

Castiel has a hard time tearing himself away from Dean’s lifeless body. Somehow, he still can’t believe that any of this is real. There’s a small voice in the back of his mind that tells him that it can’t take that much longer until Dean finally wakes up and complains about the angel annoying him again. As much as Castiel hated the way Dean had pushed him away recently, he would rather have his heart crushed into a billion little pieces by Dean each and every single day than not having the hunter in his life at all.

When the angel finally manages to pull himself together a little, he still has to force himself to get up from the chair, the bone-deep tiredness that he’s feeling in his entire body making it hard for him to move at all. Castiel doesn’t remember ever feeling so empty and exhausted before and for a moment, he even doubts whether angels should even be capable of feeling this way.

He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s been sitting there by Dean’s side, but once he steps outside, the sky is already pitch black. Even though he could easily just teleport himself, Castiel chooses to take a small walk to the playground, that serves as a portal to Heaven, instead. The walk there doesn’t do as much in calming himself down as he had hoped, but by the time he reaches the sandbox, his legs feel like they’re about to give in and every muscle in the angel’s body is wound tightly.

Castiel takes a step to stand on the border of the sandbox, before he takes the leap forwards, vanishing in a circle of blindingly bright light.

Once he sets foot into Heaven, Castiel’s body feels a million pounds lighter, the magic surrounding the place making it feel like he’s floating on air. Somehow, it still feels wrong to physically feel so light and unburdened, when the guilt and the pain are still weighing so heavily on his chest.

The angel walks along the corridor until he reaches the door he had been looking for. Castiel gingerly knocks on the door and it magically glides open just a moment later.

“Hello Castiel”, Raphael’s familiar voice greets him. “Hello Raphael”, Castiel counters, as he agitatedly shifts from one foot to the other. The archangel looks at Castiel in anticipation, his dark brown eyes firmly fixed on him. “I wanted to report that-”, Castiel begins, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat before he continues to speak, “t-that Dean Winchester is…he’s dead”. The last word almost dies in his throat, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Raphael tilts his head in confusion, before he objects, “That’s not true. Dean Winchester is alive”. Now it’s Castiel’s turn to look confused. Could Raphael be right? Could Dean still be alive? But no, that can’t be. Castiel had seen Dean’s corpse just a few minutes ago. He had felt for Dean’s pulse about twenty times without ever finding one. As much as he just wants to deny all the evidence and believe that Raphael is right, there’s no way that Dean could still be alive.

“No, he’s-”, Castiel stutters nervously, his mind still reeling with unanswered questions, “He...he can’t be. I saw him...he’s-”. Castiel is stumbling over his words, trying to make the archangel understand, but all he gets in return is a blank stare.

Why is Raphael saying these things? Is this some sort of test? Is that his punishment for not being the one that had killed Dean, like Raphael had asked him to? The thoughts are racing through Castiel’s head at lightning speed now and he holds on to the armrest of the chair that’s standing next to him in an attempt to steady himself as a rush of vertigo hits him.

“He _is_ alive”, Raphael says after a few moments, his voice monotonous but he sounds sincere. There’s a small sense of relief that’s pulling at his heart at the archangel’s confirmation, but Castiel doesn’t allow himself to give into it just yet. Something about this still doesn’t feel right and Castiel can’t be at ease until he can shake off this uncertainty that’s gnawing at the back of his mind.

“H-how?”, is all that he gets out with his mind still reeling like this. “The Mark of Cain lends its bearer an incomparable power”, Raphael explains, “This power is so strong that the Mark itself is able to resurrect the bearer in order to ensure that it’s always connected to a living being”.

Castiel’s lips part in a gasp as he processes the information he’s been given. He tries to slow his thoughts down in order to be able to think clearly again. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembers something about Cain trying to kill himself, but being unsuccessful because of the Mark’s power.

And that means...that means that Dean could really still be alive.

The angel is hit with a sudden sense of relief, his heart feeling a whole lot easier from one second to the next. With this good news, Castiel can’t wait to get back to Dean so that he can be there with him when he wakes up. Just when he wants to turn around to leave, Castiel is reminded of Raphael’s presence again. He had suddenly been so excited that he had almost forgotten that he was still in Heaven.

“Remember your orders, Castiel”, Raphael warns him and there’s a shudder that runs down his back when he remembers what the archangel had demanded the last time he had seen him.

All the excitement falls from Castiel’s face in a matter of seconds, as he turns around to face Raphael again. “You just told me that Dean can’t die as long as he’s bearing the Mark of Cain. How am I supposed to kill him?”, his question sounds a bit snappy and if Castiel wasn’t so entirely rattled by the rollercoaster in his mind, he would immediately feel bad for being so rude to his supervisor.

Raphael gets up from his chair and crosses the distance between them with a few long steps. He’s barely standing a few inches away from Castiel when he looks at him, his eyebrows knitted.

“ _You_ have messed this up in the first place, Castiel. Now go figure it out for yourself and clean up the mess that _you_ have made…before I have to take matters into my own hands.”

Raphael’s threat is still reverberating in his mind when Castiel returns to the motel room. To his surprise, he finds the bed empty. Apparently, Dean had already woken up, so Castiel decides to go looking for him. When he doesn’t find Dean in the motel, at the bar or anywhere within a one-mile radius, he begins to worry.

Where could he be?

Eventually, Castiel gives up his search and decides to wait for Dean at the bar near the motel. With the Impala still parked in the parking lot, Dean couldn’t be that far and Castiel is sure that he would show up there eventually, like he did every night.

***

Castiel takes another sip of his beer as he watches the barkeeper doing his work. Just like with most foods, the mix of molecules that make up the beer taste weird to him, but the sparkling liquid makes him feel pleasantly warm at least. As he sits there and watches the bubbles of carbonic acid rising up in his glass, the angel has a sudden flash of wit.

“Excuse me, sir”, he raises his voice as he gestures for the barkeeper to come over. “What can I do for you, pal?”, the friendly looking man counters. “I’m looking for this man. Have you seen him?”, Castiel asks, as he pulls up his phone to show the barkeeper a photo of Dean.

“Oh, you’re looking for Deano?”, he says as his eyes light up in understanding. “Haven’t seen him here today, but I’d expect him to show up any minute now”, he adds after looking at the clock that’s hanging on the wall. Castiel nods at him in thanks, before he decides to go outside to get some fresh air.

As it turns out, the barkeeper wouldn’t be wrong. Castiel had barely been outside for more than a minute, when a firm grip on his shoulder tells him that he isn’t alone anymore.

“Hey sunshine”, Dean greets him, but something in his voice is off even though Castiel can’t quite put his finger on what it is. He looks at the hunter as if he’s just seen a ghost, still in utter disbelief that Dean is alive and well, without even a single hint of the stabbing wound that had been gaping on his chest just hours ago.

_i can almost hear  
_ _your heart in the darkness  
_ _how fast it is beating  
_ _how close you are to me_

_i can almost hear  
_ _how densely you are breathing  
_ _out there in the darkness  
_ _listening for me_

Dean throws him a suggestive smirk that has all sorts of alarm bells going off in Castiel’s head. While this man certainly looks like Dean, his behavior tells Castiel that this is not entirely the Dean that he knows.

“So, uh...you’ve been waiting for me already, huh?”, the hunter asks him as he leans in closer, a strong air of bravado in his demeanor that the angel has only ever witnessed when Dean had been flirting with women.

Castiel is still looking at Dean in disbelief, unable to form any words as the hunter walks closer towards him, narrowing him in until he’s effectively crowded against the wall. The angel exhales shallowly, his blue eyes widened in bewilderment. When Dean leans in even closer, Castiel can feel Dean’s hot breath fanning over his face and he feels his pulse quickening.

“What’s the matter, angel?”, the hunter’s voice drops into nothing more than a gruff whisper, his voice so uncharacteristically deep and gravelly that it makes Castiel shiver. “Afraid of the dark?”, Dean asks in a damp exhale against the angel’s lips, his eyes still firmly fixed on Castiel’s, so that he looks right at them when they’re turning from green to black, the demon’s plump lips just barely brushing against Castiel’s as they pull up into a mischievous smirk.

***

_i can almost sense  
_ _your skin on my fingers  
_ _tension and the fear  
_ _anticipating me_

_i can almost see you  
_ _somewhere in the darkness  
_ _praying for advantage  
_ _clinging to a chance_

Ever since Dean had woken up in his motel room a few hours ago, he had been feeling better than he had in a long time. Things just felt lighter…easier without the constant burden of the guilt on his mind that had always weighed him down. The anger caused by the Mark of Cain is still perceptibly surging through his veins, but Dean somehow feels more in control now. Like he has at least some kind of power over his own body and the things that he wants to do.

And right now, he has a _very_ clear idea of what he wants to do.

There was that one desire that had been burning inside his body for a few years now, the one that his conscience had never allowed him to fulfill. No matter how bad he wanted it, there had always been something that was holding him back, a tiny voice inside his mind that was telling him not to.

Fear. Self-loathing. Worry.

But as he looks at the angel in front of him now and feels the way that his body involuntarily responds to Dean’s, this voice that used to keep him from getting what he wants is slowly fading away into nothingness.

Because this…this is nice. The way the angel looks at him with a hint of curiosity in his wide eyes, his dark hair the same old perpetual mess, his chest rising and falling with his breaths that are heavier than usual. How Dean doesn’t have any trouble at all to unashamedly flirt with the angel. And _damn_ , the way their bodies are pressed so close together that Dean can feel how Castiel’s body is reacting to him.

***

Castiel closes his eyes and inhales sharply, hoping that the fresh oxygen in his blood will somehow clear his head. He keeps telling himself that the creature standing in front of him is no longer the Dean that he used to know. That this creature is not the righteous man that he had saved from the fiery pits of Hell a few years ago, not the brave and selfless hunter that he had rebelled for. This isn't _his_ Dean anymore, but just an abomination and exactly the kind of monster that he and the Winchesters would usually fight and kill, so there shouldn't even be a single trace of doubt in his mind at how this conversation is going to end.

But despite the disgust and the guilt that Castiel feels when he looks into the demon's perpetually dark eyes that used to be so green and pure, there is also a strange sense of alluring tension that hangs thickly in the air between them.

Dean's teasing weight is pressing hotly against his body and the way the demon looks at him sends Castiel's rational thinking right out of the window so that he can't even control the way he subconsciously leans in closer to his predator.

The demon places his palm on Castiel's hipbone, digging his fingernails into his soft flesh, as he pulls the angel closer. When he grinds his hips forwards and pushes his groin against the angel's experimentally, Castiel’s lips part with a soft moan. "Huh", Dean utters, a sense of cocky amusement swinging in his low and threatening voice as he feels the effect that he has on the angel, "Is that an angel blade in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Castiel's head thuds back against the wall behind him, as he exhales sharply through his gritted teeth. His brows are furrowed and he looks down at Dean through heavy-lidded eyes, trying to keep the upper hand in this implicit fight for dominance. But as much as the angel hates to admit it, he knows that Dean is right when he feels something twitching against the restraint of his suddenly very tight pants and he curses his treacherous vessel for betraying him like that in the most inappropriate of moments.

Castiel's eyes fly wide open again when a harsh grip on his tie constricts his throat and pulls him even further towards the demon. The angel watches as Dean moistens his lips with a quick dart of his tongue while still holding his gaze.

In a spur of the moment reaction, Castiel grabs two fistfuls of the demon's burgundy-colored shirt and pushes him backwards before he puts one of his knees between Dean's legs to turn them around, so that he is now pushing Dean against the wall instead. He doesn’t know where his sudden boldness is coming from, but it feels like his blood is boiling its way through his veins at an agonizing pace right now, so all he can do is to give in to the urge to pin that handsome and flirty demon that looks so much like Dean against the wall with the weight of his body.

***

Dean snorts and the subtle raise of his eyebrows is accompanied by a smug, self-satisfied smile on his lips, as he lets himself be shoved against the wall roughly. It forces the air from his lungs for a moment but he’ll be damned if Castiel manhandling him isn’t the hottest fucking thing ever.

"That's more like it", he breathes in a low growl against the angel's lips, his voice heavy with arousal from the way Castiel is using his strength to keep him pinned in place. Dean pulls the angel even closer with a hand on the back of his head, his fingernails digging into his scalp there as he kisses him recklessly, the demon's chapped lips moving hot and dry against Castiel's.

The angel opens his mouth with a low groan and Dean can feel the way the sound vibrates through his entire body where their torsos are touching. Castiel chases the movement of the demon's tongue with his own and Dean can’t hold back a moan as the angel finally gives in to him. Dean lets his hands wander under Castiel’s trenchcoat, feeling the firm planes of his muscles through the thin fabric of his white shirt. He runs his tongue along the inner rim of Castiel’s lips teasingly as he leans back into the wall, bucking his hips forwards to grind against the angel. Dean is rewarded with another low groan as Castiel pushes back against him, causing him to feel the hard outline of the angel’s dick against his own in what is barely enough friction for his liking.

***

_one of us the hunter  
_ _one of us the prey  
_ _one of us the victor  
_ _one to walk away_

_one who's left remaining  
_ _one of us who stands  
_ _one who lies defeated  
_ _beneath the other's hands_

By the time their lips part, Castiel is panting heavily, his heart racing in his chest, his pants uncomfortably tight. It is only when he opens his eyes to see Dean’s feral and inhuman gaze that it all comes back to him. The way Dean had pushed him away and bonded with Crowley to follow this dark path that could only end in self-destruction. The way he had told him to leave him alone for good. But most of all, he thinks about how Dean would _never_ have wanted anything like this to happen between them.

He sighs and loosens his grip on Dean, taking a few slow steps backwards as he looks at the demon with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. How could he have let it come this far? Why did he let himself be played by a demon? He should have been smarter than this. He shouldn’t have let his desires cloud his judgement enough to believe that he could actually have what he had wanted for so long.

The angel turns his back on Dean to leave. Right now, he can’t even look at him anymore, because all that he sees when he looks at the demon is his own failure to keep him from making all the wrong choices that have led him to this point.

“You’re angry, huh?”, Dean asks teasingly and his voice suddenly seems incredibly loud in the darkness around them.

The angel turns back around to face Dean and instantly regrets his choice, because the way Dean is now striding towards him with the power of pure self-confidence in each of his steps is threatening to melt the last bit of his resistance away. When Dean is basically towering over him, standing at full height just inches away from him, the full attention of his piercing gaze fixed on his eyes, Castiel doesn’t know if he’s more turned on or angry.

It takes him all of his power to raise his hand to prevent Dean from coming any closer, but Dean wraps his fingers loosely around Castiel’s wrist, his thumb gently resting on Castiel’s pulse point, right under his broad palm. There isn’t any force in the way Dean is holding Castiel’s wrist, the contact is barely more than the ghost of a touch really, but although Castiel isn’t really held in place, he freezes in his movement immediately. Dean seems to feel how the angel’s pulse is racing under his touch and he chuckles confidently at the way that Castiel is basically putty in his hands.

He leans in closer to the angel, his hot breath leaving goosebumps in their wake on the slightly sweaty skin of Castiel’s neck when he speaks in a low, gravelly voice, “I’m sure you’d like to tear this body apart”. To further emphasize his words, the hunter pushes his body against Castiel’s again. The angel clenches his teeth as he exhales heavily through his nose, the anger that is boiling inside him newly ignited by the possibilities that Dean’s words are suggesting. “Piece...”, Dean continues to speak slowly as he’s guiding Castiel’s hand to his hipbone, the hunter’s heady scent flooding the angel’s senses as he leans in even closer. He’s now so close that the stubble on Dean’s sharp jawline is brushing against the sensitive skin underneath Castiel’s ear and his voice drops to a whisper as he continues, “...by piece”. Dean drags Castiel’s hand around his body until it’s resting on his ass, his hips pushing forwards into Castiel’s crotch again as he pants a hot breath against Castiel’s ear.

With the last bit of clarity on his mind, Castiel decides that he can’t do this. Dean obviously doesn’t know what he’s doing and it’s probably just the demonic influence that brings out these feelings in him. And as much as Castiel wants to just give in to the temptation, he knows that he owes it to Dean to try and save him from this. Because all of the intimacy that he’s craving is worth nothing if it doesn’t come from Dean himself, but from an abomination that has taken possession of his body.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he shoves the demon away roughly and all that Dean can do is look after the angel in confusion as he leaves.

_when the dust is settled  
_ _only one of us will see  
_ _which of us was worthy  
_ _which of us was weak_

_and when this fight is over  
_ _only one of us will say_  
 _which of us the victor  
_ _and which of us the prey_

***

_Sonofabitch._

Just when Dean thought that he had the angel on the hook, that fucking tease decided to leave him high and dry. Now he’s standing there like a goddamn fool, his breathing ragged and his dick painfully hard in his tight jeans. Dean runs his hand through his hair as he looks at his feet and takes a deep breath in a useless attempt to get his mind to focus on anything other than how the angel’s body had felt against his. How hungry and demanding his hot mouth had been…how that mouth would feel… _no_. Dean tries to stop that thought before it has the chance to unfurl any further and huffs out a sigh before he pushes himself off of the wall with his hands and turns around to enter the bar.

“There you are, pal”, Rocky greets the hunter as soon as he catches his eye, “I almost thought you had skipped town.”

Dean chuckles lowly at the barkeeper’s comment, watching as he prepares Dean’s usual order for him without even asking. “You know I’d never just take off like that without saying goodbye, buddy. How’s it goin’?”

“Same old, same old. Oh, you know actually, there was this guy that was askin’ about you earlier. About yea high, dark hair, beige trenchcoat…looked a little out of it, if you ask me.”

Dean huffs a small laugh as he swirls the whiskey glass in his hand, watching as the clear, brown liquid sloshes around from one side to the other, before he sets it to his lips and takes a swig. When Dean doesn’t say anything in response, the barkeeper continues, “Dunno where the guy went though. It was gettin’ a lil busy earlier and when I got back here, he was already gone. Should’ve asked him what he wanted from you.”

“No worries, pal. I just met him outside”, Dean reassures him. “So, is he a friend of yours?”, Rocky asks as he dries off some glasses with a kitchen rug. “Yeah, kinda”, the hunter responds absentmindedly before he empties the whiskey glass to drown out the emerging feelings in the back of his mind before they get a chance to fully push to the surface.

Rocky just nods in understanding, but doesn’t ask further. Dean is kinda glad that the barkeeper knows him well enough to know when to stop digging. If that doesn’t already make him the best goddamn barkeeper ever, his next question certainly does, “Want me to fix you some grub?”

If Dean can’t get laid tonight, he at least deserves some good old high-caloric comfort in the form of a greasy burger.

***

On the next day, Dean wakes up from a sharp knock on his motel room door. For the first time in months, he didn’t have any nightmares at all, but _damn_ , who the hell dares to wake him up this fucking early?

The hunter groans into his pillow before he pushes himself up to get out of bed. Before he’s even standing, there’s another vigorous knock on the door and he just sighs in annoyance as he shuffles towards the door in his sleepy haze. He opens the door to see Crowley standing there, looking less than pleased as his eyes give Dean a not-so-subtle once-over. “Pants?!”, Crowley says as he rolls his eyes and gestures at Dean, before he shakes his head and pushes past the hunter to enter the room.

“What the hell, man?”, Dean grumbles at him, as he closes the door and turns around to face Crowley, “You have the nerve to show up here at the crack of dawn, knocking on my door like a goddamn lunatic and then you expect me to put on some fucking _pants_? I was still sleeping, jackass.”

“It’s noon already, princess.”

“Yeah, so what? I need my beauty sleep.”

Crowley rolls his eyes at him, but eventually changes the topic. “Anyway, I see you’ve settled into your new life quite well already.”

“Yeah, about that”, Dean immediately snaps back in a gruffy voice, “Did you know that the Mark would turn me into a friggin’ demon?”

Crowley hesitates for a moment, before he answers, his voice suddenly a bit meeker, “Well, let’s say I had a hunch, but I didn’t know for sure.”

“Okay, come on, Crowley, cut the crap”, Dean is almost yelling at him now, “If you knew that I was gonna turn into a demon, what was the point of going after Lucifer while I was still human? I’m much stronger now and if we had waited a little longer, we could’ve killed him right there and then”.

"Well, with you having the Mark anyway, there was no harm in trying, now was there?”, Crowley defends himself as he gestures towards Dean, “I mean look at you, still alive and in all your demonic glory.”

“We _had_ him, Crowley. But now the sonofabitch is in the wind and we’ve got bupkis.”

“We found him once, we can find him again.”, Crowley tries to appease him, but Dean has had enough of his bullshit. “Yeah, you know what? You can just do that on your own this time. It’s your fault that we’ve wasted the one shot that we had at killing that asshat, so now you can clean up your mess.”

Dean’s blood is boiling with anger again, the mark on his harm pulsing as he shakes his head at the demon. “I’ll keep you posted” is all that Crowley says before he vanishes again and Dean punches the wall with his fist to relieve some of his anger.


	9. i’ll relish each forbidden word you say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, cursing, slight BDSM undertones, explicit sexual content/NSFW, mildly dubious consent (it isn't really, but one character blames himself for not explicitly asking for consent)
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- VNV Nation – Immersed
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

Days later, Castiel is still shaken by his encounter with Dean. He had been so relieved to hear that Dean was still alive, after believing that he had lost him forever. But this…this is somehow so much worse than losing Dean and there is nothing that could have prepared him for a situation like this.

In addition to the whiplash that the angel is experiencing in his mind because of his mixed feelings, he still doesn’t completely understand what exactly this whole situation is supposed to mean for Dean. Is he a demon now? Possessed by one? What exactly had the Mark of Cain done to him when it had resurrected him? Was there some price that Dean would eventually have to pay for this?

Whatever Dean might be now, Castiel is sure that he most certainly isn’t himself. How else could his flirty and brazen behavior be explained? Dean had never done anything that would even vaguely suggest that he had any kind of sexual interest in the angel. So where was all of this coming from all of a sudden? Was it just the demon talking or was it some kind of hidden desire inside of Dean that the demon had brought to the surface?

No. _No_ , it can’t possibly be. This is just the wishful thinking in Castiel’s subconscious that wants him to believe that what he did with Dean the other day was anywhere near okay. And that’s exactly why he can’t allow himself to make excuses for his behavior. Because if he did, he would have to be afraid that he might not be able to hold himself back the next time something like this happens. Castiel shudders at the thought of having to go through a similar emotional conflict again.

Right now, he isn’t even sure where his own desires are coming from and what they are supposed to mean. He had never seen Dean as more than a friend and had never even experienced any form of sexual arousal. He was an angel after all and it wasn’t in his nature to feel things like that.

That was until recently.

He somehow felt like, the further he strayed from his orders from Heaven, the more intense his feelings became. It kind of feels like a thick, opaque curtain that has been preventing him from seeing things clearly in the past is slowly being drawn open, allowing him to see more and more of the light that had been shut out for centuries. And the more light got in, the more he began to question his old ways and opened his mind up for new things…new feelings that he hadn’t experienced before.

Maybe the other angels were right after all. Maybe Castiel does have a weak spot for humanity and for Dean in particular. Because ever since that night where Dean - or the demon that was likely possessing him right now - had advanced him, it feels like this heavy curtain has been all but ripped away right in front of his eyes, causing him to be blinded by the bright light; by all of the overwhelming feelings that were suddenly bursting through his body and left him defenseless.

Instead of dwelling on these thoughts that recently have been lingering on his mind more often than he likes to admit, Castiel decides to do some research of his own to get a bit more clarity. He owes it to Dean to at least try to help him, after not having been able to stop the things that happened in the first place. Castiel feels a sense of responsibility for the situation, so he can’t allow his own desires to cloud his judgement and keep him from righting his wrongs.

So, after some consideration, the angel comes to the conclusion that it might be his best shot to ask the one man that is unfortunately also the last person in the world that he wants to see right now. As reluctant as he is to summon Crowley, he might be the only person that has some actual insight into these matters, since he is also the one that got Dean into this situation in the first place.

Getting his hands on the ingredients for the demon summoning spell isn’t too difficult for Castiel, since he can easily teleport himself to get the various things that he needs. Having acquired everything that is necessary, the angel sets up the spell in an abandoned factory building that is far off from any highways or bigger streets so that he doesn’t draw attention to his doings. After Castiel has combined all the ingredients and has spoken the incantation, it doesn’t take long for Crowley to appear right in front of his eyes.

“ _Castiel!_ ”, Crowley exclaims in surprise, as soon as he materializes right in front of the angel, “I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting to get a call from _you_. If you had told me in advance, I would’ve-“. Despite the nature of Crowley’s words, his tone sounds ironic, like he’s mocking Castiel.

The angel interrupts the small talk before the demon can speak any further though. “I summoned you here for a reason, Crowley.”“Oh, so you’re all business again, I see. It wouldn’t hurt you to get that stick out of your arse though, you know?”, Crowley snarls back at him.

“I have no interest to talk to you any more than is strictly necessary.”

“Alright, so no pleasantries. Let’s get right to it then. What do you want?”

“I want to know what you did to Dean.”

“What _I_ did to Dean? I didn’t _do_ anything to Dean.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that Dean is a demon now.”

“Ah yes… _that_ ”, Crowley answers nonchalantly and it makes Castiel’s blood boil to see how entirely unfazed the demon seems to be, “Those resurrecting powers are a nice little side effect of the Mark of Cain, aren’t they?”

“You _knew_ that this was going to happen?”

“Now you’re _hurting_ me, Castiel. Do I look bloody _stupid_ to you?”

Castiel exhales heavily through his nose and balls his hands into fists on either side of his body. “How can we reverse this?”

Crowley chuckles at him. “Okay, first of all, there’s no _we_ in this. You made it perfectly clear that you don’t want to work with me and I also don’t have any interest in being seen working with an angel…not good for the reputation down there, you know? And second of all, why would I tell you even if I knew? Dean is much more useful to me with his nifty demon powers. All I can tell you is that these fancy little exorcism tricks of yours won’t be of any use with Dean, because he isn’t possessed.”

Castiel takes a deep breath to try and keep his rage at bay. “So this was your plan all along? To convince Dean to work with you so that you can turn him into a demon and use him for your purposes?”

As angry as the angel is that Crowley took advantage of Dean like that, Castiel is also thankful that he at least has some kind of clarity about what he’s dealing with now, although the knowledge that this creature is, in fact, still Dean devastates him.

“Hey, watch it, angel! I’m not _using_ him”, Crowley snaps back at him, “Dean and I have agreed to work together because we have the same goal: to kill Lucifer. Anything else that might have developed along the way is nothing that I had planned.”

Castiel feels bile rising in his throat when he thinks about the implications behind the demon’s words. “You have corrupted him!”

“Oh, is that so?”, Crowley mocks him as he takes a few steps towards the angel, “Or are you just jealous that Dean and I have such a good relationship, while you’re just the obnoxious little halo that always follows him around like a stray puppy?”

The angel digs his fingernails into his palms and grits his teeth, not being able to bite back the low growl that escapes his throat. How dare this demon insult him like that? Crowley has known Dean for what…a month now? So how can he even have the nerve to imply that his relationship with Dean was in some way superior to the profound bond that he shared with Dean?

But as much as he hates that Crowley even makes him think about it at all, he can’t help but consider the demon’s words. Maybe he was being a bit too clingy with his constant visits and Dean really just grew tired of him? After all, Dean had already told him multiple times to leave him alone, so maybe Castiel had been wrong all along. Maybe the hunter’s behavior wasn’t due to his reluctance to accept help, but he was really just annoyed by the angel.

The sound of Crowley clearing his throat interrupts Castiel’s inner turmoil for a moment. “In any case, is there anything else that you wanted to know? You know, I still have a little hell to raise.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and sighs in annoyance, “That will be all”.

Without another word, the demon vanishes just as quickly as he had appeared.

***

It takes the angel a few more days until he finally comes up with something that might help Dean. The fact that his feelings always got in his way whenever he was trying to focus to make sense of the information he had found had made his research a lot more difficult and time-consuming than he had hoped.

And even now that he has come up with some sort of plan, he’s still in doubt whether or not it will even work and more than worried about what might happen to Dean if it does. After all, the records from the people who had developed this ritual he had found were patchy at best, so he isn’t exactly sure about the possible risks it might contain and that uncertainty scares him.

Castiel sighs as he gets up from the park bench that he had been ruminating on for a few hours now. After considering his limited options over and over again, he eventually comes to the conclusion that this was probably his best, if not even his only shot. It might be a high risk to take, but if Dean was at his right mind right now, he would probably want Castiel to at least give it a try.

Despite his determination to put his plan into motion, he still spends some more time thinking about possible backup plans in case something goes wrong. If he has learned anything from the Winchesters, it’s to better be safe than sorry.

***

_a heretic, an angel  
_ _in some small forgotten town  
forsaken by the one you're waiting for_

When he visits Dean in his motel room, Castiel finds the hunter lying flat on his stomach on top of the bed. His few belongings are scattered around the room even more messily than the last time the angel had been here and the fact that Dean is still in his bed instead of fighting monsters outside only adds to the list of things that are uncharacteristic about the hunter’s recent behavior.

“Oh _hi!_ ”, Dean drawls in Castiel’s direction in a sultry voice as soon as he notices the angel’s presence. The hunter’s eyebrows are cocked up in a smirk as he drags the edge of his plump bottom lip through his teeth and gives Castiel a suggestive once-over.

“Wanna join me?”

Castiel briefly looks at the TV that the hunter is nodding towards. With the very obvious position that the two naked people on the television program are in, it doesn’t take him long to realize that Dean has just suggested that they watch porn together and it instantly has alarm bells going off in his head again. _You don’t watch porn in a room full of dudes_ , an echo of the words that Dean had uttered in the past shoots through his mind in a distant memory. With a snap of his fingers, he turns off the TV and takes another step towards the hunter.

“Killjoy”, Dean scoffs at him as he shakes his head.

“What are you still doing here, Dean?”

“What’s it look like?”

Castiel rolls his eyes in exasperation. “There are still monsters out there, Dean.”

“Yeah, so what? They’ll still be there tomorrow, so I deserve a little downtime too, don’t you think?”

If circumstances were different, Castiel would be glad that Dean is finally taking some time off for himself instead of working himself down to the bone each and every single day. But with the situation being as it is, the angel is worried that Dean’s sudden change of heart might not have anything to do with him being easier on himself and that only strengthens his resolve to go through with his plan.

“What about Lucifer?”, Castiel asks, even though he isn’t sure that he wants to hear the answer. The hunter groans in response, as he turns around and pushes his body up until he’s sitting upright at the edge of the bed. “What about him?”

“I thought you wanted to kill him.”

“Yeah…still do. Crowley’s workin’ on it.”

“So, you’re _still_ working with Crowley?”, the angel asks in disbelief, once he’s able to swallow around the lump that has formed his throat. He doesn’t know what even made him think that Dean would have reconsidered his choices now that he’s a demon, but he still feels his pulse picking up with the same anger and disappointment he had felt when he first found out about their collaboration. Dean gets up from the bed and chuckles lowly as he stands up at full height to look down at Castiel through heavily lidded eyes.

“You jealous or what?”

Hearing this same indirect accusation in combination with the way Dean’s head is ever so slightly tilted to the side in a silent challenge has Castiel’s blood boiling with rage in record time and it’s like his mind goes blank for a moment when he grabs Dean by his wrists and pushes him back against the door roughly. The hunter seems to be surprised by his impulsiveness even more than Castiel is himself, because he doesn’t react at all until the angel holds Dean’s hands in place with one hand and clasps a pair of supernatural handcuffs around his wrists with the other.

“You kinky sonofabitch”, Dean exclaims with a pleased smirk as soon as the handcuffs snap shut with a metallic clank, “Should have known you were into that kinda stuff”.

The angel slightly tilts his head to the side in confusion as he furrows his brow, until the realization finally dawns on him. Dean seems to notice his thought process, because his smirk grows into a mischievous grin when he asks, “So what do you want me to do? Want me on the bed? On my knees?”

Castiel swallows thickly when the hunter swipes his tongue just above the inner seam of his lower lip, tilting his head back against the wall slightly to bare even more of the slightly sweaty skin of his neck. He tries not to think about the implications of the offer that still hangs in the air between them. “I want you to shut up”, Castiel answers pointedly, avoiding to look into the hunter’s eyes.

“Wo ho hoo”, Dean chuckles back at him as he struggles against Castiel’s firm hold, “And what if I don’t? You gonna gag me too?”

Castiel’s only response to that is to pull on the chain that connects the handcuffs to pull Dean forwards, before roughly pushing him back onto the chair that’s standing next to his bed.

“Ooh, so you’re gonna ride me?”, Dean asks excitedly and slightly wriggles his hips to accentuate his enthusiasm. The willingness with which the hunter offers himself to Castiel is almost enough to melt his resistance away, but he reminds himself that this is exactly why he has to go through with his plan. This isn’t Dean and the sooner he gets on with it, the earlier they will hopefully be able to put this behind them once and for all and forget that any of this ever happened.

He shackles Dean’s legs to the chair to make sure that he isn’t able to escape, before he pulls a small wooden box from the pocket of his trenchcoat and opens it to reveal a large, old-fashioned syringe. The sight of that seems to shut the demon up at least momentarily, so Castiel uses the silence to prepare what he needs for the ritual. Things have been silent between them for a few moments, but as soon as Castiel proceeds to take off his trenchcoat, the demon seems to be intrigued, if the low humming sound that he makes is any indication.

The angel swallows back the unwanted urges that are beginning to coil low in his stomach. The turmoil of the constant push and pull of anger and lust is clouding his mind and it takes him a lot of willpower to push aside the thoughts that begin to spark up at the sight in front of him. He exhales a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, before he wriggles out of his suit jacket and pushes the garment off his shoulders. “I gotta say I like the view, angel. Putting on quite a show for me here, are ya?”, Dean teases him and pushes his hands down on his crotch as much as he can with his restraints holding him in place.

Castiel sighs audibly and tries to ignore the way that Dean watches each of his moves intently. A garbled moan falls from the demon’s full lips when Castiel begins to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt before he pushes one of his sleeves up to reveal the crook of his arm. He then unbuckles his belt, but he can’t take his eyes off the way the demon in front of him licks his lips as he watches the angel pulling his belt off, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“Oh, _now_ we’re talkin’ “

The expression on Dean’s face changes into one of confusion when Castiel proceeds to secure the belt around his upper arm firmly and takes the syringe from the little wooden box beside him. He sets it to the crook of his arm to find his vein there and pushes the needle in before he slowly begins to draw his own blood. Castiel can see out of the corner of his eye how Dean furrows his brow at him, but he doesn’t know if the demon already has any idea what is about to happen.

Once Castiel has filled the syringe with his blood, he closes his eyes for a moment to focus on healing the little puncture on his arm. He then takes a few steps to close the distance between himself and Dean. “I gotta say, you have some weird fetishes, angel. You’re lucky that I’m very open-minded”, Dean remarks as he musters the syringe in the angel’s hand.

“Good”, Castiel answers as calmly as he can, pushing back his feelings that are still simmering below the surface, “This will be easier when you cooperate.”

Before Dean gets another chance to react, Castiel holds Dean’s jawline in place with his index finger and thumb and pushes the needle of the syringe into the side of Dean’s neck with his other hand. The demon screams in agony as the angel’s blood surges through his veins, his face scrunched up in pain as he leans to the side, trying to get away from the sharp needle as his whole body struggles against the restraints.

“Ugh”, Dean huffs, still a little out of breath, after Castiel has emptied the syringe into his bloodstream and pulled the needle out, “You know that’s not exactly the way that I imagined you being _inside_ of me”. Despite his obvious exhaustion, the demon’s voice is still thick with bravado.

Castiel scoffs and tries to ignore the mental images that start flashing up inside his mind. Images of Dean all spread out before him, willing and pliable to give him exactly what he wants. What he _needs_. He feels his body tensing up as he lets his mind wander for a moment, but he catches himself soon enough and takes a deep breath to clear his head again.

“This isn’t meant to bring you pleasure, Dean”, the angel says sharply, but there’s still a little tremble in his voice.

“Well, sue me then. Can’t help but get a little turned on by how much you obviously seem to enjoy this.” Even though he doesn’t fully believe Dean’s words, because it might just be his demonic side talking, Castiel still shudders at the notion that Dean might actually be aroused by what he is doing to him.

_No._ He can’t allow himself to actually believe that any of this is true. Castiel has to remember that this is still a demon that he’s talking to and that this is what demons do. They lie to get their way.

“I am _not_ enjoying this”, the angel defends himself, but it comes out a lot more insecure than he wants it to.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart. But you know, there’s nothin’ to be ashamed of for likin’ a little S&M.”

“I don’t think you understand what this is, Dean. I’m not doing this to _hurt_ you, I’m doing this to _save_ you.”

“ _Save_ me?”, Dean scoffs with a laugh, “I’m not lost”.

“Dean, can’t you see what Crowley has done to you? You’re a _demon_. You’re one of the creatures that you’ve spent most of your life hunting.”

“So what? I mean look at how fucked up the world is. What difference does it make?”

" _Dean_ ", Cas says in an effort to talk some sense into the hunter, "It doesn't have to be like that. I can help you”.

" _Help_ me?", Dean scoffs sarcastically, "Man, I dunno whatever weird fantasy is going on inside that pretty head of yours, but I’m not your friggin' righteous man and I think deep inside, you already know that."

Castiel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach sinks at Dean’s words.

"That’s why you dragged my sorry ass outta Hell, isn’t it?", Dean challenges him, "Because I snapped and tortured souls and you wanted me to clean up my mess by bringin’ on your goddamn apocalypse. But there's somethin’ that you still don't seem to get in your head. Because I actually _liked_ to hear them scream and see their miserable faces when they cracked. Sorry to burst your bubble, angel, but believe me...I’m already far beyond saving, ‘cause you know what? I _like_ the disease”.

"You don't mean that”, Castiel says with a bitter expression on his face but his mind is completely blank. He doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Had he really been so wrong in believing that he could save Dean? That there was even the slightest chance that Dean would allow him to? The angel had believed that Dean was just behaving the way he was because he didn’t think that he deserved to be saved, but right now, Castiel is beginning to doubt whether that had ever actually been true.

"Yeah, sure…whatever helps to get you through the night. But if you really know me so well, then look at me and tell me that I'm lying."

Castiel looks at the hunter, trying desperately to find even just a hint of a human spark, but when he looks into his green eyes, he doesn’t find anything there.

"Yeah...thought so. See? No precious vulnerable Dean here", Dean scoffs and Castiel snaps. He grips Dean tightly by his shirt as he leans in close to his ear. "Good", Castiel says in a deep and threatening voice that is barely more than a rough whisper, "Then I won't have to be gentle with you”.

Dean smirks at him with a way too pleased expression plastered on his face. "Now, that’s the spirit!", he growls at the angel in a low, husky voice, "Makes me rock hard when you take control like that”.

Castiel lets go of the fabric of Dean’s burgundy red shirt with a low, frustrated growl and shakes his head as he turns his back on the hunter. He steps outside into the cold, closing his eyes as he relishes in the feeling of his lungs being filled with the crisp and fresh air.

***

"So am I in for the next dose of angel juice yet?", Dean asks mockingly, as soon as the angel enters the room again. "Not for another forty minutes", Castiel answers, his words sounding a lot more calm and collected now.

"I guess that mean's we've got some time to kill, huh?", Dean asks cockily.

"Yes", Castiel sighs in annoyance, "And I would prefer to pass the time in silence, if you don't mind".

“What if I do mind?”, Dean tilts his head to the side slightly and raises his eyebrows as he proposes, with a smirk on his pouted lips, "You know, we could also forget about your little ritual and just make out”.

Castiel rolls his eyes on a deep inhale and his voice is pointed when he scoffs an annoyed “Very funny" back at Dean.

"Aw, come on", the demon teases him, "Don't tell me you've never wondered what it would feel like to have a demon inside of you”.

"Thank you, I’m good", Castiel answers as he shuffles backwards.

"Huh...you can try to fool yourself all you want, angel, but you ain't foolin' me.”

Castiel raises his eyebrow, his teeth gritted and his facial expression sharp as he’s trying to contain his seething anger.

“Aw, come on. No matter how hard you try to hide it, I can see that look in your eyes. You like being in control while I'm all chained up like that, don’t you?”

_battle and provoke me_   
_my principles remain_   
_i'll relish each forbidden word you say_

Castiel hates to admit to himself that Dean is right, but he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He looks to the other side of the room and avoids Dean’s gaze to not give himself away.

His plan backfires miserably when Dean’s eyes, that now don’t have another pair of eyes to focus on anymore, wander down Castiel’s body and the demon just chuckles darkly.

“What’s so funny now?”, Castiel grumbles at him and shoots him a sharp look.

“Hmm”, Dean’s voice is so low that it’s almost a whisper now, “It’s just that you’re trying so hard to deny how much you want this. Can’t blame you though. Dean...you know, the human side of me? Yeah, he wouldn’t make you an offer like this. Not in a million years. No matter how much he’s secretly yearning…no, _aching_ for it. See, he’s trapped so deep in that damn closet that he wouldn’t even admit how badly he wants you. Me on the other hand...I could give you what you need”.

“ _Stop_ ”, Castiel interrupts him with a shallow voice, slightly out of breath.

Castiel’s breath is ragged and his throat suddenly feels completely dry. The temptation to just give in is so strong and it doesn’t help that even his body is betraying him. It feels like he’s walking the razor’s edge between what he wants to do and what the rationally thinking part of his brain is telling him to do. He so desperately wants to take what he needs for once, to just let his body guide him and make this demon shut up in his own way, without worrying about the consequences.

***

When the angel draws in another sharp breath and makes a move to turn around, Dean knows that he’s almost got him. He grins mischievously and shifts in his seat as much as he can with the shackles that are restricting his movements. “Damn, look at you all worked up. It’s actually kinda hot.”

“Stop the flirting”, Castiel demands, but his voice sounds a lot weaker than before. The way that the angel still tries to resist his charms does actually spur Dean on even more, because this will be all the more pleasing when he finally manages to break Castiel.

“Ugh, makes me all tingly when you boss me around like that”, he drawls, his voice thick with the arousal that’s undeniably straining against his pants.

“Shut up.”

“Or what?”

“I said shut up”, the angel reinforces again, but this time, his voice sounds a lot less confident.

“Make me”, Dean demands with a lascivious smirk on his face and that’s when Castiel snaps. He walks towards Dean with quick, steady steps and grabs a fistful of hair on the back of Dean’s head. The demon lets out a guttural moan as he’s being forced to look into Castiel’s eyes that are glinting with anger, his trembling lips revealing a glimpse of his gritted teeth.

Dean positively shudders at the way the angel is pulling on his hair, how he’s suddenly standing so close that he’s almost straddling Dean. The demon can feel himself instinctively pushing his hips up as much as he can, desperately yearning for some more friction than what his tight jeans can provide.

_***_

The demon’s witty reply is what tips the scale and what finally makes Castiel lose his thinly wired self-control. How dare he? How can this _abomination_ work up the utter nerve to degrade Castiel like that? To tease him... _flirt_ with him.

But what annoys Castiel most of all, is that it’s actually working.

He feels the effect that Dean’s self-satisfied smirk has on him. The way he looks him down like he’s just a piece of meat, an object to his lust. Castiel can’t take it anymore. He wants to punch the life out of this demon. Wants to punch him and kick him until his face is smeared with blood and he’s wincing in pain. Until he’s begging for forgiveness for what he’s done to the human that he used to love.

What he does instead turns out to be a fatal mistake.

He steps closer to Dean in big, assertive strides that are echoing across the room. Dean doesn’t seem to be the least bit shocked at the suddenness of Castiel’s movements at all and it makes the angel all the angrier. Castiel is trying his best to ignore the way his leg drags across Dean’s muscular inner thigh that is clad in tight denim jeans as he steps between the demon’s legs, the momentum behind his movement forcing a breathy “Ungh” from the other man, his lips slightly parting as he throws Castiel a suggestive smirk.

And that’s when Castiel’s façade breaks for good. Even though every instinct tells him otherwise, he doesn’t ball his hand into a fist to punch against Dean’s jawline like he wants to. He doesn’t close his hand around the demon’s throat either. Nor does he even attempt to think about this in a reasonable way, his mind too much on fire and his blood heading south way too quickly for him to make any smart decisions now.

Instead, his hand comes up behind Dean’s head and the angel threads his fingers through Dean’s hair. Even though his hair feels a bit rough from whatever product he has put in there, it easily gives way for Castiel to rake his fingers through it. The gesture isn’t gentle though. The angel downright grabs a fistful of the demon’s hair and pulls it back with a tug to make Dean look up at him.

That’s when something in Dean’s demeanor changes.

A high moan escapes the demon’s lips as he briefly throws his gaze down towards the angel’s crotch. It only lasts for a brief moment before he tilts his head back and slightly to the side to look at Castiel again, easing back into the touch of the hand that’s still holding onto his hair. A stifled low groan escapes Castiel as Dean lets his mouth fall slightly open and teases the tip of his tongue over his plump bottom lip in a slow movement.

There’s a challenge in Dean’s eyes, but his gaze looks a lot more vulnerable right now. Almost as if it isn’t his sole mission to break Castiel, but like he wants this too. Something about this slightly softer, almost submissive expression reminds Castiel of the Dean that he used to know. About how he would always give his everything to whatever he has set his mind to.

That’s what gets Castiel going. What makes him want to give Dean what he wants, while also taking what he needs himself.

***

Dean watches eagerly as Castiel’s free hand rests on the hem of his pants, his thumb slowly sliding between the two layers of fabric to undo the button there. He feels the sting of Castiel’s nails digging into his scalp and hears the heavy exhales from the man that’s towering above him.

His hands are itching to run over the thick bulge that’s straining against the angel’s dark dress pants as Dean is shifting in his seat to get more comfortable and try to ease the situation that’s going on in his own pants that are feeling way too fucking tight right now.

He’s torn out of his haze momentarily as Castiel suddenly lets go of his hair in favor of opening the fly of his pants. Dean can’t help but to hum in approval as the angel halfheartedly pushes his pants out of the way to reveal his thick, girthy dick.

The angel runs his palm along Dean’s jawline before he pulls Dean’s bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb and _fuck_ , if this soft gesture in the middle of all that rough manhandling doesn’t turn him on even more. The touch of Castiel’s warm hand feels almost too gentle in this situation, like a praise, but even though it seems to slow time down for the moment, it doesn’t take away any of the fire and urgency that Dean feels burning inside him.

***

Castiel watches in awe as Dean leans into the touch of his hand, which makes him feel the scratch of Dean’s scruff and the sharp line of his jaw against his calloused palm even more intensely. He can’t hold back a groan when Dean flicks the tip of his hot tongue over the pad of Castiel’s thumb and it makes him wrap his other hand around the base of his dick almost instinctively.

Dean’s piercing green eyes are looking up at him through fluttering long eyelashes and his mouth falls slack to give him way. Castiel steps even closer, guiding his dick towards Dean’s mouth and closing his eyes with a shaky exhale as Dean drags his full bottom lip across the angel’s shaft.

It doesn’t take long until his dick is sliding in and out of the wet heat of Dean’s mouth in a steady rhythm. By now, the angel has let go of Dean’s jaw and is grasping the armrest of the chair that Dean is sitting on instead, holding on for dear life as the demon ravishes him with his mouth.

He throws back his head, both from the sensations and because he can’t bear to look at how Dean’s full lips, which are shiny with a mix of saliva and his precome, are stretched around his dick as he bobs his head forwards and backwards.

Castiel feels the demon’s hot tongue laving along his painfully hard dick and his legs are already trembling from how badly he needs to come. But instead of swallowing him down again, Dean pulls off from his dick, making it a challenge for the angel to stifle the sigh that falls from his lips.

He is rewarded when Dean lick’s a wet hot stripe all the way from his perineum to the base of his balls. Castiel leans in even closer to Dean and spreads his legs a little wider to allow him more access. Dean uses this chance to swirl his wicked tongue around Castiel’s rim and the angel can’t help but pump his dick, that’s still slick with Dean’s saliva, through his own fist for a few clumsy strokes.

Dean’s ministrations are reducing him into a whimpering mess in no time and he can’t stop his knees from shaking violently any longer.

But just when he thinks that he can come from just this, from the teasing circles of the demon’s hot tongue that set his sense on fire, Dean stops again, licking another stripe up Castiel’s painfully tight balls that feel like they should be bursting any second now.

The angel groans in frustration. Castiel can’t take this teasing anymore and he hates himself for being so at this demon’s mercy. It makes his anger resurface and he’s suddenly spurred on even more, which makes him grab a hold of Dean’s chin. The demon smirks mischievously and that challenging gaze is back again.

“Just when I thought you were getting soft”, Dean growls, his voice rough like sandpaper and that’s been one tease too many for Castiel. His hold on Dean’s jaw grows even more firm and the demon opens his mouth willingly when the angel downright shoves his cock back into Dean’s mouth again.

Dean hums a stifled “Mmm” around Castiel’s dick, the vibration of it reverberating through Castiel’s entire body.

***

Even though he would never admit it in his true human form, Dean is really fucking into being dominated like that. The hunter had always gotten a little tingly whenever a man took control over him, but the way Castiel is practically using his mouth to get off is making Dean feel all kinds of turned on. He also can’t deny that he’s been feeling a bit proud that he had been able to reduce Castiel into a writhing mess with his tongue alone.

But he likes this even more. Likes the way Castiel just takes what he wants, likes to feel the solid weight of the angel’s dick on his tongue and against his throat as he takes him into his mouth as far as he can. Hell, he even likes the way his eyes are watering when he’s almost choking around one of Castiel’s feverish thrusts.

He can’t remember the last time he had felt so fucking turned on by giving pleasure to someone else, doesn’t even know if he ever has. But the way Castiel is groaning above him and pushing ever harder into his mouth has heat pooling low in his belly, probably even has him leaking precome through his boxers at this stage, although he’s still completely untouched.

Dean can feel that Castiel is close when the rhythm of his thrusts begins to falter, the angel’s precome slightly bitter on his tongue.

***

Castiel growls lowly when the coil in his stomach begins to tighten. One of his hands is closed firmly around Dean’s biceps and he can feel the hunter’s muscles twitch under his touch. His other hand is now slowly traveling between Dean’s legs, almost by its own accord. He pushes his palm down there and feels Dean hard underneath him, a sudden feeling of possessiveness rushing to his dick like a stream of hot lava.

He snaps his hips forwards again to thrust into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth, who’s hollowing his cheeks to suck him in even further. His movements are uncoordinated and erratic as he fucks into Dean’s mouth almost violently, feeling the hunter choke around his dick a little. He thrusts again. And again. And again. With his final thrust, Castiel throws his head back and groans loudly, the sound echoing through the motel room as he comes in hot white spurts into Dean’s mouth, his whole body shuddering.

Dean’s rhythm begins to falter a bit and his mouth suddenly goes slack as he makes muffled sounds around the length of Castiel’s dick. The angel’s hand is basically flying to the back of Dean’s head to urge him to continue and the hunter swallows every last bit of his come as he lets the angel ride out his orgasm in his mouth.

***

His eyes are beginning to water from the way Castiel fucks into his mouth again and again. But he takes it. He takes it all and he takes it with pride. Until there’s the solid press of Castiel’s warm hand on his painfully hard dick and it all gets too much. _Fuckfuckfuck_. Dean bucks up into the desperately needed friction and continues to suck around Castiel’s dick as good as he still can, but he can’t contain the desperate moans that are escaping his mouth any longer and it makes him lose his rhythm.

And as if all of this wasn’t way too much already, Dean suddenly feels Castiel’s other hand on the back of his head, shoving him forward to force him to take the thrusts of his dick as he growls possessively. With all that, Dean just can’t hold back anymore and comes in his pants like a goddamn school boy.

He shudders through his almost painful orgasm and wriggles his hips to get at least a bit of friction from these fucking tight pants that have been roughly chafing against his oversensitized dick for what feels like an eternity now. Dean groans around Castiel’s dick and chokes a little when Castiel thrusts a little too close to his throat, but he swallows it all down when Castiel erupts in his mouth like a fucking volcano. He closes his lips firmly around the angel’s dick as he rides out his orgasm, the sounds that are escaping his chapped lips sounding even more obscene and downright filthy in the cold and empty room.

_Fuck_.

This wasn’t what Dean had planned when he had started this. He had wanted to break Castiel to get back at him for the last time that he had just left him high and dry in front of the bar. He had wanted to rile him up until he couldn’t take it anymore and would finally give in to Dean.

Dean knows that he had completed his mission, but now here he was, just having creamed his pants like a goddamn virgin because he had been so desperate for it that he couldn’t hold himself back when Castiel had just taken what he wanted from Dean in his eagerness.

The hunter sags back into his chair, still a little out of breath, and watches how Castiel staggers back a little, his chest still heaving with his labored breaths.

The room around them is silent except for the sound of their audible breathing. Dean catches Castiel staring as he licks the residue of the angel’s come off his lips and looks up at him through his eyelashes, as he raises a self-satisfied eyebrow at him.

***

As soon as Castiel’s breathing is almost back to normal, an instant wave of regret hits him like a punch to his throat.

Shit.

This was wrong. _So_ wrong. This shouldn’t have happened. No matter how much he has secretly wanted this, how _long_ he has been waiting for a chance like this, there’s no way he can justify using Dean like this, when he’s not even in control of his own mind and body. Even at the off chance that Dean, the real Dean, has been into this as much as he is, there was no way he could have had any chance to protest. No way he could have ended this if things had been going too far for him.

Castiel had always sensed that Dean might have some kind of hidden feelings for him. Feelings that he didn’t allow himself to show or even act on. The angel had never asked Dean about it to spare him the possible embarrassment that he undoubtedly would have felt, but he was aware that there was _something_. Just like he was aware that these feelings, if they even existed would probably never lead anywhere anyway, especially with how things have developed after Sam had said ‘Yes’ to Lucifer.

So Castiel had kept his own feelings and desires to himself, no matter how much he had wanted to fulfill them. After a while, he had just gotten used to the way Dean so often stared at Castiel’s mouth and subconsciously licked his lips when he thought that nobody was watching. It made the angel’s heart break a little bit more every time it happened, because he could so clearly see the longing in Dean’s emerald green eyes; that implied wish for something more than just being friends that he just didn’t allow himself to have. And this...this is what hurts Castiel in more ways than just one.

And even though he knew how vulnerable Dean was when it came to these things and that he would have needed more time for a big step like this, he just walked all over him and his feelings just because he couldn’t restrain himself. Castiel had deprived Dean of the chance to take his time and do things at his own pace - if he even wanted to do anything about it at all - and he would never be able to forgive himself for that.

“So, Feathers”, Dean tears him out of his thoughts. Castiel looks away from him and tries to hide the emotions that are trying to drown him on the inside as he pulls his pants up and buttons them again.

“You gonna hit me with the next injection or do you think that angelic juice of yours will be enough for now?”, he emphasizes the words by licking a stray drop of come from the corner of his mouth.

The anger starts to boil up inside Castiel again, but this time, he won’t allow it to get to the front of his mind. Not again. Instead he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, before taking the syringe from the side table and proceeds to draw some more blood from his arm.

The look of sheer self-satisfaction on Dean’s face almost has him back to lose control, but instead, he just channels that anger, as he pushes that needle into Dean’s neck with a little more force than is strictly necessary.

“Ow”, Dean growls and the pain is clearly visible on his facial features as he presses his eyes shut and his whole body tenses up, “And here I was, thinking I had just done a good job.”

As much as he wants to, Castiel ignores the urge to respond to Dean’s comment. Instead, he slams the empty syringe down on the table, picks up his trenchcoat and then turns around to leave the room again, deciding that some fresh air in the park might be the best thing to clear his mind a bit.

***

Thankfully, Dean doesn’t make any further attempts to seduce Castiel whenever he comes back to the motel room for the next injection. After what had happened earlier, the angel decided that it would be wise to only spend as much time as strictly necessary around the demon, because he doesn’t exactly trust himself when the temptation is right there in front of him. Using the hour between injections to take a walk outside and breathe in some fresh air definitely helps him to think more clearly and stay focused on the task at hand, although it also makes him feel a little guilty for just leaving Dean alone like that.

What does help though is that, with every injection, Dean seems to get back a little closer to his former self. Over the last few hours, his resistance has grown slimmer and Castiel doesn’t know whether it’s because Dean got what he wanted or if it’s proof of the ritual showing its first effects.

Whatever the reason might be, the angel is relieved that he doesn’t have to spend as much energy in dealing with Dean as he had earlier. Somehow, this whole ritual has already been very draining for him as well and he isn’t sure whether it’s just because of the emotional struggle that seeing Dean like this puts him through or if the bone-deep exhaustion that he feels is some kind of side-effect of the ritual itself.

After Castiel has injected the hunter with the sixth dose of blood, Dean suddenly begins to sob. The angel looks at him in bewilderment and watches as his demonic facial expression transforms into a painfully familiar one of guilt and hurt.

"C-Cas", Dean says shakily but this time, it’s with his familiar, soft voice that Castiel knows and no longer tinged by mischief or anything demonic at all.

_Cas_. Dean has just called him _Cas_.

Castiel's eyes fill with tears as he hears Dean call him by his nickname for the first time since things had started to fall apart between them. Castiel had been fighting so hard to save Dean and recently, he had become so hopeless that he had almost begun to think that Dean couldn't be saved. That he had irreparably failed him.

But now that he sees Dean, _his Dean_ , sitting in front of him, teary-eyed and calling him _Cas_ , he knows that all the pain and struggle have been worth it. He is suddenly so full of hope that they can work things out together, that he almost forgets the guilt that is still gnawing at him. But now is not the time for that, because when he looks at Dean and sees teary green eyes looking back at him, he knows in his heart that they can and will figure this out together.

***

Dean looks into Castiel’s big, baby blue eyes as his vision starts to get blurry with tears. He can clearly see the concern in the way the angel frowns, despite the hopeful smile that’s pulling on the corner of his lips and it takes him a moment to remember why he is sitting in this chair and why the hell he is all tied up. The hunter’s bones feel heavy and he’s so damn exhausted, even though he doesn’t really know why. Everything on his mind is still a bit blurry, so the hunter closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he allows his memories to flood his mind.

As soon as Dean lets go, it feels like a big concrete wall is tumbling down around him. He is suddenly immersed in an endless maelstrom of all kinds of different emotions and images from his past that are racing through his mind at lightning speed.

_Lucifer possessing Sam. Hurt. The feeling of betrayal. The fight between Lucifer and Michael. Their brother Adam falling into the pit. Sorrow. Hopelessness. Dean taking out his frustrations by killing every demon and monster he could find. Endless corpses. Pools of blood. The way he constantly pushed Castiel away. Pain. Regret. How he started working with Crowley. Remorse. Cain giving him his Mark. Rage. Anger. Their fight against Lucifer. The empty expression in his brother’s eyes as he killed him. How Dean woke up as a demon. The way he treated Castiel. Regret. Anger. Pain. Hurt. Lust. Betrayal. Remorse. Hopelessness._

Dean suddenly feels like he’s about to throw up. His head is swimming and if he wasn’t sitting in a chair already, he would be afraid that his knees might give out under him any second now. The hunter is breathing heavily and the image of the angel in front of him fades into a blur, his low and soft voice barely audible through the mind-numbing sound of rushing blood in his ears, before he loses consciousness.

***

“ _Dean_ ”, the angel says in a soft voice once his mouth remembers how to form words again. The hunter’s gaze looks empty and unfocused and Castiel is worried that Dean might pass out. He immediately rushes to the bathroom to prepare a cold, wet towel that he places on the hunter’s forehead and watches how Dean’s breathing slowly gets a bit more even. Castiel encourages him to take some deep breaths to ground himself and Dean follows his advice while the angel unties him and unlocks the handcuffs that are still restraining the hunter around his wrists to give him some space to move.

After a few more focused breaths, the hunter’s eyes slowly flutter open again to reveal his mossy green eyes. When he looks at Castiel again, the angel sees something changing in the way Dean looks at him. The hope that he had seen in the hunter’s eyes earlier is replaced by something between pain and anger and Castiel can only watch while something in Dean’s mind seems to shift.

He’s still so overwhelmed by everything that has happened today, that it’s already too late when his rational thinking reminds him that he should do something. But before he can even think further about what exactly he should do, he feels a sharp pain shattering through his skull and the last thing he sees are Dean’s green eyes turning to black before the world around him does the same.


	10. in this together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, cursing, explicit sexual content/NSFW
> 
> SONGS:  
> \- Apoptygma Berzerk - In this together
> 
> If you want to listen to the music that inspired me in the process of writing this story, here is a playlist with all the songs that I quoted in the various chapters of this fic (including the trailer video and title song) to get you in the right mood:  
> https://youtu.be/ctrv-HpkeL4

_should have seen this coming  
should have known this  
_ _shouldn’t have let it happen  
my mistake, alright,  
_ _stuck again_

_doing my thing  
too alike, yet far apart  
what felt so good once  
is breaking me  
_ _and tearing us apart again  
_

When Castiel opens his eyes again, his vision is still a bit blurry and there’s a thumping in his head that he can’t yet explain. His body feels weary and the high whirring sound in his ears causes his mind to take unusually long to put the pieces together and make sense of why he is laying on the floor of what he eventually recognizes as Dean’s motel room.

The angel takes a deep breath and lets his head drop back on the cold floor with a dull thud. He closes his eyes in order to focus and slowly but surely, the memories come flooding back to him, guilt and regret washing over him almost immediately.

Castiel sees Dean’s emerald green eyes in his mind, how broken and small the hunter had looked after that last injection of his blood had taken effect on him. The knowledge that this vulnerable and oh so human part of Dean was still in there somewhere makes Castiel’s heart ache with longing. _That_ was the Dean he had kept fighting for, the Dean that he hadn’t seen in so long because he had been buried underneath all the trauma that he had been put through.

It had only been a bare flicker of Dean’s humanity before things had gone downhill again, just a short moment where Castiel had thought that things were going to be okay. But even just this short glimpse of how things could be had given the angel enough hope to override every last bit of reasonable thinking in his brain. Hearing Dean calling him _Cas_ again after he had treated him so coldly in the past few months had filled Castiel’s heart with so much warmth that he didn’t even hesitate or think twice before he ran to free him from his chains, unknowing what kind of creature he was about to unleash into the world. And if Dean had been unpredictable and dangerous in his demonic form before, he doesn’t even want to imagine what he must be like now, his anger probably only amplified by the Mark of Cain and everything that Castiel had just put him through.

But despite all the consequences that this might have on the world at large, the angel can’t help but think about what Dean, _his Dean_ , that had resurfaced again during this ritual, must feel like right now. Castiel doesn’t know enough about demons to understand the inner workings of their minds, but from what he had seen, he has a feeling that the human side of Dean must be buried somewhere in a dark corner of his mind, probably suppressed by the demonic powers of the Mark of Cain. He imagines things to be similar for Dean as they would be if he was possessed by a demon or an angel…similar to what Sam is probably be feeling at this very moment as he’s kept from the surface of his own mind by Lucifer, numb and unable to keep his own body from the unimaginable things that the devil is doing to innocent people.

If that is what is happening to Dean right now, Castiel doesn’t even want to imagine how the hunter is going to feel when… _if_ Castiel will ever be able to save him. From the few times that Dean had actually opened up about his feelings to Castiel, the angel knows that Dean seems to feel things more acutely than any other human being that he has ever come across. He knows just how vulnerable Dean is below the strong and cold façade that the hunter has built around himself over the years to protect himself from harm. It had always been difficult and painful for Castiel to watch this façade crumble around Dean whenever he was deeply hurt, but after everything that had happened recently, Castiel isn’t sure if Dean would ever be able to forgive himself for the things that he has done under the impact of the Mark of Cain.

The worst of it all was that Castiel had been _so_ close to curing Dean. He had managed to make the human part of Dean resurface, which means that the ritual must have been working, at least to some extent. But then he had thrown all caution to the wind and messed it up all over again because of his impatience and the emotions that had overwhelmed him when Dean had called him by his nickname. All of this just happened because of a stupid sentiment that he wasn’t even supposed to feel.

What if all the progress he had made was now for nothing?

What if he had lost Dean for good?

Castiel tries to stop the tears that are stinging at the corners of his eyes at the thought, because he knows that it isn’t of any use if he succumbs to his painful feelings now. His feelings are what got him into this situation in the first place, because they had clouded his judgement, so he knows that wallowing in dread and pity won’t help Dean at all. And if Castiel is even remotely right about his hunch that Dean might be even angrier now, it’s important that he acts quickly to prevent further harm.

It takes the angel an unusual amount of effort to lift himself up off the ground with his bones feeling as heavy as they do and it only reinforces Castiel’s assumption that the purifying ritual has had some kind of impact on his own ‘mojo’, as Dean used to call it.

Every move that he makes feels excruciatingly exhausting, so that, by the time he finally manages to get to his feet, he almost feels like sitting down on the bed again right away. He steadies himself on the chair that is standing next to the bed and the feeling of the armrest in his strong grip triggers some memories that he had tried his hardest to repress up until now.

The image of Dean sitting in this now empty chair flashes behind his closed eyelids and his mind supplies the countless sensations that he had felt when Dean had closed his soft, pillowy lips around his…no. _No._ He can’t allow himself to give in to these alluring memories right now; not when he should be busy searching for Dean who had disappeared to God knows where.

_God._

Castiel shudders at the thought and although his body had started to respond to the memories of what Dean had done to him earlier, thinking of God and his heavenly mission made his body freeze back in place instantaneously. He remembers the order that he had gotten from Heaven or from God himself, if he wanted to believe what Raphael and the other angels were constantly trying to convince him of.

For a moment, Castiel entertains the thought that maybe Dean was right and that there really wasn’t a God out there. What if the angels had been lying to him all along, because they just wanted to have power over the other angels in order to put themselves on a pedestal and play God? Or is that just another one of Castiel's poor excuses that the sentimental part of his mind is coming up with because he doesn't want to kill Dean? Has he already fallen so far from grace that he isn’t even able to see what’s right anymore?

At this point, he doesn’t really know what to believe anymore. Ever since the failed apocalypse, the lines between good and bad, between right and wrong had become so blurry that it has become difficult to figure out what to do with this new ocean of opportunities that had been given to him. It was exactly what they had been fighting for all along: free will. To hell with destiny and God's plans.

But now, Castiel isn’t so sure anymore if that is really what he wanted. It had been so easy to have a roadmap and just follow the plans that someone else had laid out for him. No questioning, no need to reconsider or even have any doubt in what he had been told. But now, that guiding light, that north star is gone and Castiel is struggling to figure out what he is supposed to do.

By his nature, he is still an angel, one of God’s creations. Although he had stood up and rebelled against everything that he had ever believed in to tear up the pages and rip up the ending of the holy prophecy, he doesn't even know what to do with what he had achieved. He had fought along the Winchesters’ side to fight for what _they_ believed was the right thing to do, but now that both Sam and Dean are - according to their own definition – on the _wrong_ side of things, Castiel is feeling helpless and lost.

Naturally, his first instinct had been to save Dean, because he is the only thing that has been a constant for him recently. But was that really the right thing to do? Or was he just clinging to him because he was afraid to be all on his own in figuring out what to do with his freedom? Even though it feels like every fiber of his being is aching to get Dean back, there is a voice in his mind that makes him shudder; a voice he wants to ignore at all cost and somehow can’t. It’s the voice that’s telling him to kill Dean.

***

Castiel doesn’t have to look very far to find the hunter.

In fact, he has just walked over to the bar near the motel that Dean used to frequent with the plan to ask the friendly barkeeper whether he had already seen Dean today. But upon entering the bar, he finds the furnishings shattered to pieces; the corpses that are laying in pools of their own blood between shards of broken glass and splinters of destroyed furniture already giving him a vague idea of the events that must have transpired here.

As his eyes wander across the room to evaluate the extent of damage that had been done, he sees Dean standing at the bar, his hand closed firmly around the throat of the barkeeper that Castiel had been looking for. The friendly looking man is croaking some choked off sounds, every bit of color drained from his face, his arms flailing weakly on either side of his body.

“ _Dean_ , no!”, Castiel calls out as he rushes over to the bar, but the telltale sound of crushing bones tells him that it’s too late before his brain is even capable of processing the images of the barkeeper’s neck being snapped right in front of his eyes. The hunter lets go of the dead man’s neck, causing his corpse to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

“Hiya angel”, Dean drawls in his thick, honey-like voice, a telling smirk on his lips, “Did you miss me?”

“What have you done?”, Castiel demands to know, but it’s difficult for him to keep his voice steady with the mix of terror and rage that’s building up inside him.

“Huh”, Dean scoffs back, as he saunters towards the angel, his gaze never leaving Castiel, “Thought the situation here was kinda obvious.”

“These people were _innocent_ ”, Castiel looks around the room and nods at the dead bodies that are scattered there.

“Yeah…sure. Y’know, it’s just…with all the shit I’ve seen in my life, I don’t think that anyone’s really innocent.” There’s a pause as Dean gives Castiel a suggestive once-over, before he adds “Not even you and your hot, lily-white ass”.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that Dean had just murdered all these people in cold blood, of course he had the nerve to start flirting with Castiel again, emphasizing his statement with a smirk that wasn’t entirely unsuccessful at making the angel question his own motives. He takes a deep breath to soothe the wild heat that is spiking in his stomach, but it’s not working very well. Castiel hardly has any room for a spare thought, his head spinning and dizzy with how much he wants to just push that disrespectful demon against that counter and…

Castiel stops his train of thought right before it can go in a direction that he doesn’t want it to. Maybe he rather shouldn’t trust his rage so that it doesn’t get a chance to give way to these dangerous desires that he doesn’t seem to have any control over. He takes a deep breath to realign his focus and remind himself of his priorities. “This ritual that I did on you, it started working. Do you remember that?”

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, apparently annoyed that his advances haven’t worked so far. “Little Latin, lot of blood. It rings a bell. But tell me, angel, did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed?”

“That must have been the Mark affecting you.”

“Yeah…it really wasn’t.”

Castiel looks down for a moment, taking a breath and trying to come up with a counter-argument, but he knows that it’s just a meek attempt. In his heart, he knows that Dean is probably right and that he might not have any chance to save the hunter when he doesn’t want to be saved. But despite his odds, he doesn’t want to accept that fact just yet. “It doesn't matter, Dean. Because whatever this Mark did to you, we are going to fix it.”

“Oh, _are_ we now? 'Cause right now, I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out...with my teeth. I'm giving you a chance here, Castiel. You should take it.”

“I’m not leaving here without you.”

“Well, in that case, I guess we both won’t be going anywhere anytime soon”, Dean mumbles lowly, a suggestive smirk on his lips as he leans closer towards the angel, “Any ideas on how we can kill some time?”

“Dean, this is serious. You know that this is a matter of saving you or killing you, right?” Castiel’s expression is concerned and his voice is clearly tinged with worry. But even as he says these words so clearly, he still isn’t sure if he would actually be ready to kill Dean if bad came to worst.

“Well, I'm not walking out that door with you to let you ‘ _save_ ’ me”, Dean makes quotation marks in the air with his fingers, “I'm just… _not_. So, what’cha gonna do? You gonna kill me?”

Dean leans back against the counter, the tip of his tongue tucked loosely between his teeth as he smiles mischievously. Castiel takes a few more steps to close the distance between them until he can feel the hunter’s hot breath fanning across his face. He holds Dean’s heavy-lidded gaze, trying not to let his thoughts wander to the hunter’s lips and the things that he would like to do to him right now. His blood is a heavy, pulsing roar inside his skull, the dark part of his mind screaming at him to just take what he wants, but instead of giving in to the temptation, he flicks his wrist to conjure his angel blade from the sleeve of his trenchcoat.

Dean exhales audibly and dips his head back slightly to bare his neck in offering as the angel sets his blade against the delicate skin there. There is no resistance from him at all and Dean’s gaze is challenging as his voice drops to barely more than a whisper.

“Do it!”

The demon tucks the tip of his tongue against the edge of his upper teeth so that a glimpse of his tongue peeks through his parted lips, before he grits his teeth together and tilts his chin down as he bares his obsidian eyes. It has Castiel’s walls tumbling down so quickly that he’s feeling dizzy with the heady rush of it, his blood screaming under his skin, a painful pounding between his legs that bereaves him of any thought except for how much he wants Dean. There’s a faint echo in the back of his mind, reminding him that he’s losing this battle with himself, but he can barely hear it over the rush of blood that’s thundering in his ears.

***

_don’t you see?  
we’re in this together  
you and me, one on one forever  
_

Dean knows exactly what he’s doing and he can sense that the angel is close to his breaking point. It turns him on beyond measure to see the turmoil between anger and arousal in the way Castiel’s upper lip ever so slightly trembles to reveal a peek of his teeth. By the glint of raging arousal in his blue eyes, Dean knows that he’s got him.

Barely a second later, he hears the angel blade dropping to the ground with a telltale metallic clanking sound before Castiel rests two big palms on his chest, roughly shoving him backwards, sending Dean stumbling over bodies and pieces of furniture until his back hits the nearest wall. The angel follows after him immediately, pressing him flat to the wall so that their bodies are flush and Dean can feel Castiel through his pants, the length of him hard against Dean’s hip.

Castiel rakes a hand up through the short hair at the back of Dean’s neck, using it as leverage to pull him closer and crush their lips together in a bruising kiss that is more teeth than anything. Dean hums a low sound of approval in his throat, his hips undulating against Castiel’s crotch as he captures the angel’s bottom lip with his teeth.

Dean bites down on the soft flesh hard enough to draw blood before laving over it with a swipe of his tongue, licking away the iron taste. As Castiel hisses sharply, the hunter uses the tiny gap between his parted lips to lick into his mouth with fervor. The angel reciprocates immediately by shoving his tongue into Dean’s mouth like a starving man, grabbing a handful of Dean’s ass as he pushes one of his legs between Dean’s, driving him up the wall as he digs his fingers into Dean’s hips.

The hunter grinds against the delicious friction of Castiel’s knee, but it’s nowhere near what he needs right now, so he decides to take matters into his own hands to get this show on the road: He pushes the oversized trenchcoat down Castiel’s shoulders, the angel letting go of his iron grip on Dean’s hips to shrug out of both the trenchcoat and his suit jacket at once and it gives Dean a nice view of the angel’s muscular chest that’s straining against his tight, white dressing shirt.

With a bit of space between them, Dean sneaks one of his hands between their bodies, palming the angel’s crotch through his pants and moving his hand to rub against his growing erection. Castiel’s answering moan is positively filthy and it seems like the sinuous movements of Dean’s hips as he grinds against him are reducing him to an incoherent, needy mess, if the way his fingers are digging into Dean’s shoulders hard enough to leave bruises are any indication.

The hunter gasps when Castiel suddenly yanks his dark red henley up without any warning whatsoever, so that Dean has no other chance but to lift his arms before the angel pulls the shirt over his head, tossing it away with an animalistic groan that is mirrored by the hunter. The angel’s palms are scorching hot on Dean’s skin as they roam all over his chest, down his abs and… _fuck_. Castiel shoves his hand right past the waistband of Dean’s underwear, cupping his painfully hard dick in his hand and _holyfuckingshit_ , if that doesn’t send even the last tiny bit of Dean’s self-control - not that there had been much to begin with - right out of the friggin’ window.

He moans at the way the angel curls his long fingers around his dick without any inhibitions, giving him a few rough strokes. The hunter can’t help but to wildly buck his hips against Castiel’s touch, having barely enough sense left in his mind to reach for the angel’s belt, before he fumbles to unbuckle it. It takes him an unusually long amount of time to undo the belt buckle because the way Castiel strokes him just feels fucking divine after not having had much else than his own hand for the past few months and _sonofabitch, why doesn’t this fucking belt come undone already?_

Dean doesn’t seem to be the only one that’s out of patience though. Castiel retrieves his hand from the hunter’s pants and slaps his hands away from his belt. For a moment, the hunter audibly sighs at the loss of the delicious friction of Castiel’s hand on him, but it gives him a chance to come back to his senses for a moment, until his eyes fall on the angel’s now revealed dick that is already flushed darkly pink at the head and leaking with precome.

The hunter bites his bottom lip at the sight, his mouth watering when he thinks back to how heavy and perfect the angel’s girthy cock had felt on his tongue. He’s torn out of his haze quickly though, when Castiel makes quick work of his pants and underwear and yanks them out of the way roughly, leaving him completely naked apart from his jeans that are still pooling around his legs. He kicks them off along with his shoes, before sneaking one of his legs around the angel, drawing him in until their now unclothed dicks are rubbing against each other.

Without any warning, the angel just honest to God picks him up like he doesn’t weigh a damn thing, his broad palms hoisting Dean’s thighs up to wrap them around his hips. The muscles of Castiel’s arms are rippling under his slightly translucent white shirt and Dean suddenly feels so dizzy that he has to take another breath.

The fresh air that’s filling Dean’s lungs is almost immediately forced out of them again with a throaty “Ungh” when Castiel spins them around and carries Dean to the pool table that’s standing opposite the wall, basically tossing him down on it, so that his back crashes on the solid surface underneath him.

If it wasn’t for the demon blood that’s still running through his veins, Dean would probably be embarrassed to be carried across the room like that and he would most definitely blush at the way he’s lying on this pool table now, completely exposed with his legs spread wide, but the way Castiel looks at him like he’s gonna eat him alive has all of his blood running south, making any kind of thinking impossible.

Barely a moment later, the angel steps between his spread legs and pushes two of his fingers inside Dean’s mouth, the hunter obliging willingly, sucking around them to get them nice and wet. He sees the angel’s dick twitching when he scrapes his teeth along Castiel’s knuckles, followed by a feral groan before the angel withdraws his fingers again. There’s a heady sense of anticipation that runs through Dean as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but even that can’t prepare him for the shudder that curses through his whole body when he feels the wet pad of Castiel’s finger circling his entrance.

Dean cries out in pleasure when the angel drives a slippery finger into him, pushing it past the tight ring of muscle in one smooth movement until it’s completely buried, before withdrawing it again, Dean’s remaining demonic powers dulling most of the pain that he would otherwise undoubtedly feel at the harsh intrusion. Castiel doesn’t give him much of a breathing break before he adds another finger that ignites a sizzling spark in the hunter once he finds his prostate.

Moan after moan is drawn from Dean’s lips when Castiel really goes to town on that spot, crooking his fingers inside the demon experimentally, the sensations that are going straight to his dick almost distracting him from the way the Mark on his arm heats up. The ever-present sting of it almost isn’t noticeable due to the blazing fire that the angel’s fingers are igniting in him, causing Dean to see stars in front of his eyes whenever Castiel hits that sweet spot. That sweet delirium doesn’t last for long though, since Castiel quickly retrieves his fingers after just another few thrusts.

***

_i know its self-inflicted  
we’re way too desperate  
way too addicted  
but i can’t help the way i feel  
_

The demon’s eyes fly open again, looking back at Castiel like a dark, starless sky. Dean is panting heavily, his mouth hanging slack as he looks back at the angel with nothing but fiery passion in his eyes. “Fuck me”, the demon groans at him in his deep, raspy voice, that electrifies every cell in his body.

Castiel’s hand reaches out to grab a handful of Dean’s hair between his fingers, pulling on it to tilt his head to the side, as he leans in closer to the demon, his voice dropping to nothing more than a low, threatening whisper as he says “You don’t get to make demands”.

A low, needy sound of pleasure escapes Dean’s throat as he kicks his calf into the hollow of Castiel’s knee, causing him to stumble forwards against Dean, so that their faces are now just mere inches from one another, Dean’s skin blistering hot against his chest despite the thin fabric of the shirt that Castiel is still wearing.

“Come on, angel, you know you want it too”, Dean grumbles against Castiel’s lips.

The angel can feel his anger burning red-hot in the pit of his stomach. He hates that he’s still not immune to this demon’s impertinence, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know if he even wants to be. If anything, the way Dean teases him turns him on even more; so much so that Castiel feels like he barely has any control over the way he grabs Dean’s thighs, pulling him closer to the edge of the pool table before he roughly spins him around, manhandling him into a position where he has to brace himself against the green surface of the table with his palms, his ass sticking out and his bowed legs spread wide for the angel.

Castiel licks his broad palm before he gives his own dick a lazy stroke, taking in the sight in front of him for a moment as he pushes into the friction of his own hand.

“Come on, big boy, show me what you got”, Dean drawls at him as he looks over his shoulder, the impatience clearly audible in his voice and as much as the angel tries to hold himself back, he can’t resist the urge to push inside Dean any longer either. He grabs the hunter’s hip with his left hand to steady himself, before he guides his dick to its goal with his right.

The first few inches are scorching hot and so fucking tight that Castiel lets out a loud, garbled moan at the immediate onslaught of pleasure. With the hunter so incredibly tight around his dick, Castiel has to take a breath to ground himself as he waits for Dean to relax his muscles a bit. When he does, Castiel digs his fingernails into Dean’s hips and thrusts forwards to drive the rest of the way into the hunter in a single powerful thrust.

The hunter curses breathlessly once Castiel is fully sheathed inside him, as the angel stills his movement, relishing in the feeling of being completely surrounded by Dean’s tight heat for a moment.

“Is that all you got?”, he demon asks him cockily as he turns his head around to face Castiel, his lips pulled up into a smirk that awakes an urge in Castiel to fuck that expression right off his stupid pretty face. Spurred on by Dean’s words, he pulls almost all the way out and drives back inside of him with one forceful, long thrust, watching as his cock disappears between the cheeks of Dean’s ass, his skin scattered with freckles even there.

***

Dean makes a sound of rapture when the angel begins to slam into him in earnest with long and hard movements. There’s a burning ache in the muscles of the hunter’s arms where he’s bracing himself on the pool table, the rough, green felt cover scraping on his elbows as the angel’s hands on his hips hold him up far enough that his dick is swinging free and slapping against his abs with every snap of Castiel’s hips.

It’s frantic, messy and probably all kinds of fucked up how much pleasure Dean gets out of being dominated by the angel like that, as he’s pounding into him again and again. He probably shouldn’t enjoy the hot drag of Castiel’s dick up his ass as much as he does, shouldn’t be making these little whiny pleading sounds to urge the angel to fill him up and fuck him harder, but Dean would be lying to himself if he said that he was anything but enjoying this.

The downright filthy moans that are dropping from Castiel’s mouth are the hottest fucking thing he’s ever heard, his voice so deep like it was made for sex and for reducing Dean into an incoherent, weak-kneed mess.

With the pace and intensity of the angel’s thrusts, it’s difficult for Dean to do much besides pushing his ass back a little, but when he does, he’s rewarded with an electric feeling of bliss that surges through him as Castiel hits his prostate at this new angle. Dean tosses his head back at this new sensation, the angel diving down to seal his mouth to Dean’s neck. The hunter groans when Castiel’s mouth wanders along the side of Dean’s neck, sucking and biting his way further along to his shoulder blade to claim his territory.

***

The imagery of his dick disappearing into Dean’s ass over and over again along with the sinful sounds that Dean is making are causing Castiel’s movements to get a little sloppy, as he’s losing himself in the heat of Dean’s body. He fucks into him a little harder on the next thrust, nailing Dean’s prostate dead-on if the way Dean chokes on a moan is anything to go by. “Oh fuck, that’s good.”

It shouldn’t make Castiel feel proud that he can make Dean feel like this. In fact, he shouldn’t be enjoying this or even think about engaging in sexual relations with a human being…a demon…or whatever Dean was right now _at all_. But despite what his now very blood-deprived brain tries to tell him, it feels like Castiel’s resolve to serve Heaven and to kill Dean melts away more and more with every thrust of his dick into the blazing heat of Dean’s ass, as the pure rage and all of his pent-up feelings are finally being released.

Castiel can feel something building up inside him, the urgency and need for relief getting stronger with any passing moment. He slows down his thrusts a little, resting one hand between Dean’s shoulder blades to push him down until the side of the hunter’s face is flush with the table as he replaces his quick, forceful thrusts with longer, deeper ones.

The sounds that are falling from Dean’s mouth now are a bit higher in pitch and they’re reverberating through the room despite being muffled against the fabric of the table and Castiel can feel the low rumble of his voice all the way to his dick.

***

Dean can feel that the angel is getting closer to his release when the top part of his body is being pushed onto the table with a strong hand, the way his dick is now dragging against the rough fabric of the pool table making him cry out in pleasure. With Castiel’s deep thrusts that are nailing his prostate dead-on and the almost painful but oh so fucking good friction on his dick, Dean is suddenly dangerously close to falling apart under the angel’s punishing weight.

The angel continues to slam into him with relentless, targeted thrusts that bury Castiel’s thick, hard cock so deep inside him that his whole body is trembling with it, his hands searching for purchase on either side of the pool table.

When Castiel growls a low, husky “ _Fuck_ ” into his ear, Dean almost jumps at the shudder that runs through his spine, pushing him even closer against the table and from then on, everything fades into a blur. With his over sensitized cock trapped between his body and the rough surface and the way Castiel now grinds against his prostate in quick, half-abandoned thrusts, he suddenly explodes, shooting his come all over the green fabric of the pool table. Dean is gasping for air, his throat completely dry and hoarse from his loud groans as he rides out his orgasm, clenching around the girth of Castiel’s dick.

Castiel is panting heavily above him, burying himself balls deep inside the hunter with each thrust, as broken curses fall from his lips. He slams into Dean once and then again until the lightbulbs in the bar around them suddenly begin to shatter due to the high-pitched shrieking sound that fills the air. The hunter can feel Castiel’s dick pulsing deep inside of him, before he comes in hot, white spurts inside Dean, his fingernails biting into Dean’s skin as his whole body shudders with a filthy, pornworthy moan.

Dean clenches his walls around the angel to milk every last bit of his orgasm out of him, the throbbing of Castiel’s dick inside him making him realize just how empty he has felt, deprived of a considerable amount of the demonic power that used to surge through him like liquid fire. Despite his whole body feeling sweaty, sticky and exhausted when Castiel collapses onto him, Dean is probably more content and sated than he’s felt in a long time, finally having gotten what he had wanted for so long.

***

Castiel tries to steady his breathing as he slowly comes down from his high, his dick slowly softening where it’s still buried inside Dean. Every muscle in his body feels sore and heavy, but he’s feeling a lot calmer than before now, his post-orgasmic haze making him feel like he’s floating, despite the utter exhaustion of his body.

He uses his arms to lift himself off of Dean, his movement immediately followed by a sigh from the man underneath him as he pulls out of him with a squelching sound. He walks towards the bar to grabs two rags from behind it, quickly shaking them to get rid of glass shards, before he throws one over to Dean and proceeds to clean himself up with the other.

While he does that, he allows himself to drink in the sight in front of him: The way Dean’s face and chest are flushed from the heat, the side of his neck covered in dark bruises and his hair standing up in every direction. He feels an urge to close the distance between them again, to finally throw his shirt off and push their naked bodies flush against each other, but before he even really gets a chance to consider his options, his train of thought is interrupted by a deep voice that doesn’t belong to Dean.

“So that’s what you call gathering intel and reporting back to Heaven?”, the voice asks, the low echo of it reverberating through the empty room.

“Who the fuck is that?”, Dean bleats out immediately, as he quickly pulls his pants up to cover himself and fishes in his pocket for his angel blade.  
  


_i know it’s time to be strong  
now when all hope is gone  
and when what felt so good once  
is breaking me  
and tearing us apart again  
  
_

Castiel’s stomach drops when he turns around to look at the person that the voice belongs to, “ _Raphael_ , what are you doing here?”

“I’m checking in on you of course. You really think we would just leave you alone with Dean Winchester after you told us about the Mark of Cain? Your attachment to this human is the punchline of every second joke up in Heaven, but even I wouldn’t have thought that you’d go _this_ far.”

Before Castiel can even put together the words to defend himself against Raphael, Dean looks at him with a threatening glare, his eyebrows knitted in anger, “Woah, wait…you _told_ them?”

“ _Dean_ , wait-”, is all that Castiel manages to get out, his brain not yet being able to catch up with this turn of events as he’s still a bit dizzy from the high of his orgasm, “Let me explain.”

The angel is still scrambling for his words. He wants to explain why he had told Raphael about the Mark of Cain in the first place, wants Dean to know that he had just done it to protect him and to make sure that the angels wouldn’t take matters into their own hands and kill him. He didn’t know that the angels were watching him and he definitely didn’t know that Heaven apparently didn’t really trust Castiel in the first place.

He feels like he’s being trapped in a stalemate situation, the rage coiling in his stomach at Heaven’s betrayal mixed with the guilt that he’s feeling at having betrayed Dean’s trust in the first place.

“The way I see it, there ain’t much to explain here, man. You betrayed my trust…hell, you _spied_ on me. You know who spies on people? Spies!”, Dean grumbles before putting his shirt back on.

“Dean, I’m sorry, I-“, Castiel tries again, but the hunter immediately interrupts him.

“No, no, you don’t have to say that you’re sorry. Joke’s on me, really. I should have known that you’re just another one of these feathery, two-faced bastards. Now that I look at it, that whole helper’s syndrome act was just a little too good to be true, wasn’t it? I should’ve seen that you’ve always just been hangin’ around to get information outta me. But that’s over now.”

“Dean wait, that’s not true.” The angel’s voice is desperate now, his eyes stinging with tears.

“Whatever man”, Dean scoffs as he picks up his bag from the floor, “I’m done here. _We_ are done here. Just lose my number and don’t you dare ever come looking for me again.”

_  
and in your troubled eyes i see  
someone who carries me somehow  
like footprints in the sand  
you’ve been behind me all along  
we got it wrong from the start  
now it’s you and me, lets hit it on  
  
don’t you see?  
its’ you and me against the world  
we’re in this together_


End file.
